Midnight
by Rae111
Summary: Her life was anything but ordinary. A/N: COMPLETE. Finally.
1. Chapter 1: The Benedict Affair

Part One

The fat mustached man was fast asleep. She had tired him out, as she was supposed to do. She was advertised as "the whore who will make it worth your money!" But that was only a line to appeal to the customers. She only performed like that when she thought she had a lead on someone.

And boy, did she have a lead on this one. He fit the description in the file that Andrew had given her. He was obviously well off, considering that he told her he had "shopped around" for the best girl. Even though she had only been in this business for a short while, Midnight was good, but she was expensive too.

It had all been planned out. When she was first put on the case, she and Andrew searched for the brothel with the highest reputation. They then stroke a deal with the pimp of the place, who allowed her to do her undercover work for a small fraction of her earnings, but because they put a high price on her services, his fraction was quite a hefty one. "The higher the price, the better," Andrew had explained to her. "This way, we know that only people who have extra money laying around- and not many people do- will come to you. Benedict will have that money, and the taste for whores. It's perfect."

The man lying next her stirred and awoke some. Midnight snuggled closer, giving him the all-around package he had paid for. "Wake up, sleepy head!" she sang. He opened his eyes and looked at her, bags starting to form under them. "You know, you are one of my best. I don't say that to just anyone. You're good. I think you tired me out before I could get to you!"

The fat man smiled. "Well, I suppose I have a good deal of experience…"

"Oh, and it shows! It really shows," she replied, feeding his ego. "So, Big Boy, you never told me your name."

He chuckled, and the whole bed shook. "Why should you care? I've never met a prostitute who actually wanted to admit they knew me before."

"Well, why wouldn't I? Do you seriously think I'm in this business for the money? I need to have some fun sometimes too, you know."

"James Benedict," he informed her, running his rough disgusting hand up the side of her back. "But my friends call me Jimmy. And your name is?"

"Cookie." Midnight gave her wig a toss, pleased with the fact that it had stayed firmly in place throughout the hardcore sex she just had. She fluttered her eyelashes a bit to make sure that they were still there, and sure enough, they stuck on as well. She made a mental note to wear this one again sometime; it wasn't very often that she found a disguise that worked this well.

"No last name?"

She shrugged. "I forget. I've gone through too many of them." This wasn't a lie. Her different personas all had last names. Olson, St. James, Pascal, Gellar, Minelli; they all fit different personalities. "So what do you do for a living?"

Benedict clammed up and took his hands off her then. "Oh, no! I did not mean to make you uncomfortable! Come now, enough of this talk. Let's have some fun, shall we?" And with that, she crawled on top of him and did her job.

When she was through, Midnight layed her head on his shoulder and played with his chest hair. "I don't want you to feel like you can't trust me, Jimmy. You can tell me your secrets. Who would I tell on? The police? They'd never believe a hooker, big boy." She left a trail of kisses on his arm, persuading him to confide in her. Just a few more minutes and she'd have the information she needed to arrest him.

He smiled, turned to her and started feeling her body with his fingers. Midnight found this particularly difficult to let him do, but she pretended it was what she wanted, telling herself that it would all be over soon. Benedict kissed her in places she had never even wanted to be seen only a few months earlier, whispering to her between each caress. "Guns," he told her as he spread her legs once more and came into her. She cried out softly, and he continued. "I sell guns illegally. Big ones. Guns that could kill thousands, Guns that aren't even approved of by the governments in thirty countries. I sell them all."

"So then you do have a lot of money!" she asked as they rolled around.

"Enough to make you a queen, my darling."

And with that, she pushed him off of her and he fell with a thud onto the floor. "Not enough to pay your bail, I'm sure."

As she was reaching for the handcuffs they had used earlier, he pounced on her and threw her to the ground, kicking and screaming obscenities at her. "You bitch!" he cried. "You fucking little whore, you wont get away with this I swear! You'll be dead long before they find your body." Midnight was prepared for this, and once she found an opportunity, she kicked him, causing him to loose his balance and tumble over. She crawled on top of him, applying pressure to one of the vital points just long enough to knock him out cold.

Sweat dripping from her naked body, she sighed and sat down on the bed. The pimp was bound to have heard the noises and probably sent for Andrew, and all there was left for her to do was wait and think of how she got to this point in her life…


	2. Chapter 2: Brittany I

_The year was 1889. It was the year that little seven-year-old Brittany Miller was going to start school. Brittany was a small girl with an adventurous personality. She was an only child, and her parents' pride and joy. _

_Mrs. Miller was a quite caring woman of about 26 years of age. She always looked on the bright side of things, and leaned on her husband's every word. In this house, Mr. Miller was god. _

_Mr. Miller was a tall man of great strength. He worked at a textile factory repairing machines, as they were often breaking. Many people feared him upon meeting him, but those who knew him also knew that he was just a big softy. His family was his life. _

_Brittany lived peacefully in their one room apartment, growing up to be a lively young girl who loved people. Often restless at night, she ventured up to the rooftop to sing to herself late in the night. Her mother found her like this one evening, and the two made it a hobby of theirs. They would sing together as they cleaned and cooked while Mr. Miller was at work, and sometimes, the family would go listen to the performers in Central Park._

_Yes, it was safe to say that she had a normal happy childhood._

_On the morning of September 1st, 1889, Brittany woke up early to prepare for school. She would be the first Miller to get an education, so this was to be a big day. Once she was squeaking clean and smelled of soap, her mother revealed to her the dress she had made for the occasion. It was green, to match her large doe-like eyes and had a lace trim on the hem. When Brittany looked closer, she realized that the lace was the very same lace from her mother's wedding dress. Tears filled Mrs. Miller's eyes when Brittany was fully dressed, ribbons and all. _

_Mr. Miller kissed her on the cheek and told her to be a good girl at school, and that he would be waiting to hear all about the learned world when she came home from school. When she begged him to walk with her to school, he declined and explained that there was a large machine that needed fixing, as it could break down completely very soon. He told her that the entire factory depended on his repairing this device, but that he loved her and repeated that he would see her that night._

_When Brittany returned home from school that afternoon, she flung open the door, expecting her father to be waiting for her as he had promised. What she found instead was her mother sitting at the table crying. As it had turned out, the machine he had been working on exploded with him underneath it. He was killed instantly._

_Brittany never returned to school again._


	3. Chapter 3: Andrew

"Coffee?" Andrew offered as Benedict was being hauled towards a police carriage. Midnight took it and pulled the blanket around her tighter. The bitter aroma of the drink filled her nose and she sipped at it, enjoying its warmth. Benedict scanned the surrounding people for someone, and she was sure he was looking for her. When he didn't see whomever he was trying to find he cursed and climbed into the carriage. "Nice disguise. Is it new?" Andrew asked her.

"Yup."

Andrew just nodded and sipped at his own coffee. He was a young officer of maybe 28 but he was still one of the best police officers in New York. He was a likeable guy, what with his golden hair, deep brown eyes and charming personality, but Midnight had been on the opposite side of the interrogation table with him and didn't let herself be fooled by him.

"So." This was how most conversations started between the two of them. Legally, he was her boss, but they both knew she had a hold over him as well. Midnight was a force to be reckoned with, and could roll with the best of them. "Ya did good, Midnight," he said, side-glancing her from over his coffee cup. "Benedict wasn't kidding when he told you that he would kill you."

"Does this mean I get to keep the hooker pay check as well as the detective pay check this time?" she asked him.

"Minus the pimp's fraction and your due to the department, yeah." She only nodded, obviously satisfied enough. After a few minutes of silence, Midnight turned around and headed back into the house of ill repute. Andrew followed. "So what do you think you'll do now?"

She shrugged. "Wait for the next case I s'pose. This one will have left me decently enough, and it wont be long until there's another impossible assignment for me to crack." She finished of her coffee. "Why do you suddenly care?"

"Well, I was thinking. I mean, I've got extra room in my apartment now that my friend got married, and the rent isn't easy for one person to handle so…" He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her.

"Andrew, you have a million other girls knocking at your door. Yet you're asking the one girl who isn't to move in with you. I don't mix business with pleasure. You know that," she told him matter-of-factly.

"I didn't mean it like that and you know it. I thought you could use some help, since you always seam to be out of a place to stay," he barked angrily, temper obviously rising.

"Hey!" Midnight turned on him abruptly. "I survived just fine before you, my dear, but you seamed to be having some troubles until I started helping you out!"

"Yeah okay, whatever. Just, shut up. Listen, go off and go to wherever you go between cases, see if I care. Come by my office on Thursday to pick up the pay." Andrew stormed off, pissed that he didn't win his battle.

Andrew was like that. He was a nice guy and all, but pretty conceited and immature. He knew he looked good, and he knew he was well liked. It made him angry that there were still people out there who weren't in love with him.

Midnight sighed and went up to her room, collecting her things in the same way she always did- fast and stuffed into her sack. And with that, she climbed out the window and down the fire escape and into the long awaited night.


	4. Chapter 4: Brittany II

_Three months later, on her eighth birthday as a matter of fact, Brittany opened the door to her apartment carrying groceries. Her mother had gone into a state of refusal, leaving Brittany to do everything her mother should have done. They were living off of what had been saved up after her father died, what with neither of them able to find any work._ _Brittany walked in to find her mother in the same state she always found her: rolling over drunk._

"_Mother, no more of this. It's unhealthy!" she said, taking away the brandy bottle. Ms. Miller mumbled a few words that were hard to understand. "But you don't need it! What you need is some supper. Can you help me with soup, Mother?" A few more mumbles then, "Well, you'll at least take a rest for me then, wont you?"_

_Her mother nodded, and Brittany carried her over to the bed._

_When Ms. Miller awoke once more, Brittany was sitting by her bed with a bowl of soup and force fed her mother until she was sufficiently sober once more. _

_This, sadly enough, had become routine for the young girl. A normal girl would break under the pressure, cry and seek companionship in all those around her to help her heal her broken heart. But Brittany held in deep inside her, every snide comment the neighbors said about her and every day, when she came home to her drunken mother and no one around to help her, she stored the thoughts in a tiny corner, and never ventured near them. She couldn't break down; for her mother's sake she had to keep her composure. _

_Her mother looked at her through bloodshot eyes and said to her "Brittany, you cannot live like this. I wont accept it. Here's what I want you to do…" and she explained to her daughter that she was to go to Mr. Lars Studebaker, the man who hired Mr. Miller and demand to be given a job, as compensation for being responsible for her husband's death. "And that's an order!" she told the young girl. "I don't want you to come back here until you have secured a job with Studebaker."_

_The next morning, Brittany headed out to the home of Lars Studebaker._


	5. Chapter 5: Pay

The door opened. From her hidden spot in the corner of his office, Midnight watched as Andrew entered, humming some tune or another. "What do ya got for me, Andrew?" she asked as she slipped out from the shadows.

Andrew jumped. "Midnight! What the hell!" he cried, running a hand through his hair trying to look like it hadn't fazed him. "I mean, what are you doing here? It's Wednesday. I told you to come tomorrow."

Midnight walked over to his desk and sat down on top of it, picking up a paperweight and playing with it. "And you expected me to obey? Andrew, Andrew, Andrew. Have we not been doing business together for five years now?"

"Don't remind me." He sighed and sat down. "If you're hear to ask about my offer, its already been taken," he told her.

"Andrew!" Midnight roared, slamming the weight back down on his oak desk. "I'm here for my goddamn money and you know it!"

Andrew stood up and leaned into her, glaring. "And what if I don't have it, huh? What if I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow, and didn't get it ready?"

"Then you can get it now," she replied, jumping off the desk and going over to the door and opening it for him.

Sighing as he gave up, Andrew walked out, but turned back quickly to tell her that if she touched anything, he would dock her pay. Midnight rolled her eyes and closed the door behind him.

When Andrew returned, he found Midnight sitting at his desk looking through his files. "How come you never told me you have a new case?" she accused bitterly. "You know I'm the best you've got. Give me the job."

He moaned. "No."

"What?" she cried, standing up and walking over to him. "Who are you gunna get to take it on? Jennifer? Mason? Rachel? None of them would be able to take this guy on!"

"Midnight, did you even read the file? This guy could kill you!"

"That's what you said about Benedict isn't it? I've handled serial killers before, Andrew."

He took the file out of her hand and replaced it with her salary. "No," he repeated sternly. "You are too important to too many operations to for me to allow you to take on a job this dangerous. Besides," he added, "we don't have the slightest idea who he'll strike next."

Midnight rolled her eyes and sat down with a plop in the client's chair. "And you honestly think that the rookies will be able to find him if you don't think you could? Come on, Andrew," she pleaded, "you're smarter than that. Let me at least help you out." She looked at him innocently, causing him to need to look away.

"And what do you propose we do?" he inquired, keeping his eyes averted from her face.

Midnight crossed over to him and took the file from his hands. "Well, it says here that he's killed and raped a female factory worker, an orphan, a restaurant hostess, a shipment packer, and a shoe-shiner. They're all low-end third class professions, Andrew."

"You think I don't know that by now?" he retorted.

"Well, my guess is that he posed in those situations long enough to gain the trust of the girls and then he killed them. Listen," she said, slamming the file back down on the desk and leaned over it towards Andrew, "put me on it. I can do desperate and lonely better than anyone else! I mean, I sort of do have the most experience with it so-''

The door opened and in walked Rachel Williams, an attractive less-than-intelligent new comer to the business who was a constant annoyance to Midnight. Andrew cleared his throat. "Uh, Midnight, would you please excuse me? I have an appointment with Miss Williams."

Midnight looked suspiciously back and forth between Andrew and Rachel. "Are you sleeping with her?" she accused, her head cocked to the side and her eyes narrowed. Andrew moaned and turned away from her. "Because God knows you'd never choose HER before me to take this kind of a case on." Midnight could hear Rachel trying to exit Andrew's office. "No," she said, spinning around to look at the fair-haired girl. "Don't leave. I can see what five years of devoted service has gotten me. Maybe you'll be better off; I hear fucking your boss gets you an awful lot of benefits." She grabbed her money and headed for the door.

Andrew chased after her and grabbed her wrist, turning her around. "Midnight, don't be like-'' Midnight slapped him. She turned around and slammed the door in his face.


	6. Chapter 6: Swifty

An hour later, Midnight was still seething. She had been walking around Manhattan, trying her best to get rid of her temper. "That sonuvabitch. I can't believe him," she mumbled to herself. "I'll show him. I'll finish this case with or without his consent. I got a good enough look at the report. Then who'll be fucked?"

Then, suddenly, someone ran into her, knocking her down and sending newspapers flying. When she looked up, she saw a young oriental boy kneeling over her, reaching down to help her. She took his hand and pulled herself up, while pulling him down in the same motion. "Watch where you're going," she sneered, spitting at him.

This little run-in didn't improve her mood much. She hated newsboys. They were so rude and intent on selling their newspapers, but when there was a chance for them to play the hero, they always rode in gallantly. The past summer the newsboys had had their infamous strike. At the time, Midnight had been working on a big case, but was completely thrown off the trail by all the hype about their strike. It had pissed Midnight off; she wasn't used to being thrown off and it took her a while to find the guy again.

'They are filthy little rats who don't have any money,' she thought to herself. 'Only someone who had no where else to go would become a…' Her thought trailed off then, for she realized that that would be where the serial killer would hit next. It fit perfectly. More and more girls were becoming newsies now that there's been a media build up around it. It was a low-end job that the killer could slide into easily. It was perfect!

Quickly, Midnight pulled a 180 and ran back towards the Asian boy. "Hey!" she yelled after him. "Wait up!"

The boy turned around slowly. "What do you want?"

She slowed down in front of him, panting slightly from her run over to him. "I'm sorry about what happened back there," she began, giving her best impression of a good girl, reaching back into her childhood to discover what she had once been. "I've been a little stressed out lately, and I wasn't thinking."

He snorted. "A little?"

"Okay, so more than a little. But," she whined, "life has been so rough. My parents are forcing me to go to etiquette school to become a 'proper lady.' Do YOU think I could pass for a proper lady?" she questioned, gesturing towards her clothing. She was dressed not unlike the boy, as she found it more comfortable than a dress.

The Asian chuckled. "So run away. I've got a bunch of friends who did."

Midnight's eyes and jaw dropped, trying to be as naïve as possible. "Seriously? I don't think I could do that. I mean, where would I go?"

"You could always become a newsie. The pays not so good, but it's an all right life. Live with your friends, have zero responsibility, be your own parent. It's definitely got its perks."

"Just like that? I can be a newsie?"

He smiled sideways at her. "Say the word and I'll get you started."

Midnight considered her possibilities. Did she really want to go live with these ingrates? But, she did want to prove once and for all what she was made of to Andrew. She sighed and stepped that line into the future. "Please do," she decided.

"Great," he exclaimed. "I'm Swifty. Do you have a name?"

"Uh, yeah. My friends call me Midnight," she answered, foolishly forgetting an alias.

"Midnight, huh? And why's that?"

She shrugged. "I guess I don't really know. Maybe its because I can never get to sleep at night," she lied. Midnight knew exactly why they called her what they did…


	7. Chapter 7: Brittany III

_It had been two years since Brittany had returned to her apartment with the good news of her employment, only to find that they entire apartment was empty- mother and all. So, instead of going to work from seven in the morning to seven at night like had been originally planned, Brittany worked permanently in Studebaker's home, serving has his personal attendant to all things he sent her to do. _

_Studebaker was a dirty man, balding at the age of forty-two. He was a round man with a sick cunning. His wife and sons were equally ugly and uncaring. Mrs. Studebaker used Brittany to the point beyond servant, and her children were no better. Max and Joseph were twin terrors who were a few years her elders. Max was strong and brutal, and just as piggish in attitude as his father was. Joseph was the studious one of the two, and never missed an opportunity to make Brittany feel inferior to him._

_The girl had grown older as well. She was no longer young, naïve and obedient. Servant work and her mother's disappearance hardened her fragile heart. But there was one other thing that had caused the child to grow up so quickly._

_Studebaker beat her. Late at night, after his wife and sons were asleep, he would creep up the stairs to the attic and whip her. It started slowly at first, his only beating her when he was drunk, but eventually, it became his hobby. Brittany would convince herself that he did it because she wasn't doing her job right, that a dish hadn't been washed precisely. But even after she shaped up her service, the beatings continued. So she would perfect every little assignment she had been given to do. But nothing made a difference, and soon, the fat man began to touch her. Studebaker took away Brittany's innocence when she was only nine years old._

_The boys started noticing that she would be up all night long, and started to tease her about the dark bags under her eyes. They poked her with sticks, sneering that she shouldn't have stayed up so late; otherwise she wouldn't be so stupid or ugly. It was a game to see how long she could take it before crying. Eventually, all it took was a one-word jest to get her to brake down. As the reader may have guessed by now, that word was 'midnight.' _

_For the next year, every night Mr. Studebaker would come into her room and molest her. For the next year, her mistress remained aware of her husband's assaults on the servant girl, and Brittany doubted she even cared. For the next year, Max and Joseph called her nothing but Midnight, and all the seven to seven servants assumed that it was her nickname, and so her nickname it became._

_But then, on December the 11th, 1891, on her tenth birthday as a matter of fact, Brittany had had enough. And she did the most unthinkable thing…_


	8. Chapter 8: Tibby's

"You hungry?" Swifty asked her. At the thought of food, Midnight's stomach grumbled. "I'll take that as a yes then," he chuckled. "We'll stop into Tibby's and grab a quick bite to eat." He led her around a few corners and through some allies and came out in front of a restaurant looking over Newsies Square.

Swifty had spent the afternoon showing her around the cities different territories, and explaining to her the ropes of being a newsie. Midnight had found that he was a decent guy. She just hoped that this case would be over with soon; she wasn't enjoying this charade.

"Heya, fellas!" Swifty cried as he entered the restaurant. In the corner, where much of the noise of the place was coming from, a group of boys stood up and waved at him.

"Who ya got, Swift?" a large dark-haired boy asked him.

"Finally got a girl?" questioned one with an eye-patch.

"Or is she like a puppy- following you everywhere you go?" remarked a loud Italian boy.

Midnight's eyes narrowed. She hadn't been made fun of for quite some time and she wasn't liking it.

But Swifty seamed to enjoy the torment. "Shut up, will ya? Fellas, this is Midnight. She's running away from her parents and wants to become a newsie. I told her she could be," he explained. "Is that okay by you, Jack?"

The group quieted down some to hear what a boy in a cowboy hat had to say about Midnight's acceptance. There was something oddly familiar about his demeanor. He eyed her up and down, estimating her intentions. She did her best to keep a straight poker face.

Finally, Jack stood up, walked over to her and stopped. He spit into his hand and extended it out to shake hers, raising an eyebrow as though to question her reaction. All eyes were on Midnight. Knowing exactly what to do, she spit into her own hand, and clasped tightly to Jack's. He chuckled slightly and nodded to the rest of the boys, who at this point, cheered. Swifty was beaming at her like a proud parent.

The introductions were given. There were so many names; it should have been hard for her to remember them all. But, as it was crucial in her line of work to remember each detail and each name and face, she caught on easy. Most of the names were simple, as they all were ones to fit the various personalities. There was Kid Blink, named for the obvious eye-patch. And then Mush, who was a sweet guy. It was simply a matter of matching the name to the face.

And as she met and was introduced to each newsie individually, she began to notice something: none of them were particularly revolting. They all had something about them that she was attracted to. 'Business and Pleasure are two entirely different things, Midnight,' she reminded herself. 'Don't get them confused.' But even as she suppressed the feelings, she could help but keep thinking of their obvious beauty.

"So, what's your story, Midnight?" asked the Italian boy whom had been identified as Racetrack.

Swifty sat down next to her grabbing a roll from a certain Snipeshooter's plate and answered for her, nonchalantly saying, "Her parents were trying to get her to go to boarding school."

Midnight was glad that Swifty had responded for her. She couldn't remember what she had told him earlier, and silently cursed herself for forgetting. "But that's the plus side," she elaborated. "They were going to try to transform me into a proper lady! I couldn't take it. All the primping, and pruning and fidgeting with everything- it drove me crazy. I mean," she continued, taking the roll from Swifty's hand, "why would I want to be a lady? There's manners, etiquette, fashion, hosting parties, and making small talk to do. And to top it all off, there's dancing. Don't make me puke."

The boys laughed, and then forgot about her, paying attention to where over in the corner an amber-headed boy was firmly glued to a girl. "Is he crazy?" Mush began, stating what obviously everyone else had been thinking. "If her father finds out, they're both going to be skinned alive."

Swifty noticed her brow furrowing, and explained. "That's Skittery. His new girl is the lawyer's daughter, and he doesn't approve of Skitts."

Kid Blink laughed. "Which is exactly why you see him stuck so tightly around her," he joked.

"Why do you say that?" she questioned.

"Skittery likes the challenge," he explained, leaning in as though it was a big secret. "Tell him no, and he says yes. Say go ahead, and he's lost interest." With that, he threw down his fork on the table with which he had been gesturing vigorously and leaned back with his hands behind his head, looking to Midnight contently as if to say 'you better believe it.'

Behind her, Midnight could hear the door opening. Blink's face filled with disgust as he saw who entered. Midnight turned around to see a swarthy boy walk into the diner. As she glanced around her, she noticed that every boy had an expression to match Kid Blink's.

"Hammer," Mush muttered loathingly.

This Hammer boy sauntered in, glancing over at Skittery and the girl. "Fuck her," he sneered, just loud enough for everyone at Midnight's table to hear. All eyes narrowed. Hammer continued towards them. "Well, looks like Skittery has been getting some action lately," he jeered as he pushed his way into their booth.

"Shut up, Hammer," Kid Blink seethed.

"Oh?" Hammer retorted. "Is someone a little jealous? Is Pink not performing good enough for ya? Or," he said, in a state of fake shock, "is she not performing at all?"

Blink stood up and grabbed Hammer by the collar. "I said shut up, you lousy flee-bag!"

"Who's this precious beauty?" he asked, fingering Midnight's hair. "Have we finally hired a lodging house whore?"

"That's it," Jack boomed, storming over and picking up the boy. "Get the hell out of here. You can't talk to our friends that way and expect us to respect you. Now get out," he sneered. Hammer sulked off towards the door. "And don't expect me to let you in tonight, either!" Jack cried after him.

At this point, Midnight was pretty sure who her suspect was.

"Don't be fooled by that ass," Jack told her. "Don't have the impression that he's an example of what we're like around here. I want all my Newsies to be okay. But that guy…"

"It's okay," she assured him. "I'm used to guys like that."


	9. Chapter 9: Brittany IV

_A young girl sat on the stoop of a church, crying. "What have I done?" she cried as the rain poured down on her. A million thoughts filled her head. 'What will I do now? Who will I turn to? Where did mother go? I wish I could find her. Why? WHY?' _

_Brittany spent the entire night on that stoop. Once morning broke over the horizon, she looked up with tear-streaked eyes to see the most beautiful sunrise she had ever seen. Purples tangoed with oranges; reds mingled with golds; all the colors melded together perfectly. It filled her with a new light. Standing up, she felt herself taking control of her destiny. Realizing that it hadn't been her fault, she left her past behind her. At ten years old, a time when young girls dreamed of being princesses and played with dolls, Brittany knew the awful truth about life. She knew that princesses and happily ever afters were impossible. No one would ever truly love her. At ten years old, she became thirty._

_She spent the day walking around the city, thinking. She watched as people hurried past her, trying to get to their destinations on time. One man was scurrying so fast that after he checked his pocket watch to see the time, that as he reached to put it back in his pocket, it dropped to the ground. Oblivious to what had happened, the man walked on. Brittany picked up the watch and it dawned on her how easy it would be to steal straight from someone's pocket. _

_For the next week, Brittany did nothing but watch people. She learned that the streets were busiest around noon and five. She also noticed what people were rich and those who had nothing to give her. Also spending this time to ponder on the credibility of her new 'employment,' Brittany came to the conclusion that it was her turn to revenge on life. _

_She remembered her first. She hadn't known his name at the time, but she remembered the face and the adrenaline it gave her. He was a wealthy young man of about 23, and had a long coat with a large pocket on it. She took in a cleansing breath and pushed herself forward, running into him. He toppled over, and as he fell down, Brittany slipped her hand into his pocket and pulled out a money purse, silently stuffing it into her own pocket. "I'm sorry, Mister," she apologized, flashing him her little girl smile. He grinned back at her. Brittany ran away smiling wider than ever before; she had money._

_Doing this everyday or so for months, it built up. One day, she walked into a general store with seven dollars. She walked out without any money, but instead carried a set of boy's clothing, a pair of scissors, bleach, black paint, and some bread. _

_She had found an old apartment complex abandoned a few weeks earlier, and when she arrived there, she trekked up the stairs to the top floor, where there had once been a dance studio. The walls were all lined with mirrors, and as Brittany lit the candles that were strewn on the floor, she looked around her. This was a good place she had found. Secrecy was promised, as it was rumored to have been haunted, so she knew that she wouldn't be bothered. In the corner, there was an old mattress she had stolen from one of the lower floors and a blanket. She had also found many books scattered throughout the building, and was proud to say that she had already read them all. If you were to pull away the third floorboard from the left of the large crack in the north wall, you would find the rest of her money hidden away._

_Turning to face herself in the mirror, she memorized every inch of her face. On it, she still saw the pain tucked away. Her father was hidden deep in the iris of her right eye. Mother was etched deeply in the lines furrowing her brow. Lars Studebaker resided in the corner of her left eye. Mrs. Studebaker lived in the creases in the corners of her mouth. Joseph was responsible for the bag under her right eye; Max owned the left. _

_She took one last glance at what she had once been, and took the scissors in her right hand. Holding her breath and letting a few tears fall from her eyes, Brittany held her long hair with her left hand and held the scissors with the right. One snip, and ten years of hair fell to the floor. Twenty minutes later, her once long almond colored hair was blunt and blonde, thanks to some bleach. For hours she sat like that, in the old blue dress she had been wearing for over half a year now. She once again studied her new face, discovering that she was no longer Brittany Ann Miller. Brittany was innocent. Brittany lived to please. Brittany was capable of love. She wasn't the same girl anymore._

_Standing up, she striped herself of the dress. She slipped into a pair of pants, and felt what it was like to for the first time spread her legs far apart. The shirt was a loose cotton, and was quite comfortable. Pulling on the finishing touches of her outfit, such as the shoes and her hat, she was complete. Looking up into the mirror, the young girl saw not Brittany. Instead, staring back at her was the face of Midnight._


	10. Chapter 10: The Lodging House

"Blink, baby? Is that you?" a high-pitched voice rang from the stairs. Midnight and the others came into the place identified as the Lodging House after selling their papes. She was tired, and didn't feel like being introduced to new people. Yet from the stairs, she could see a tall girl with long blonde hair looking at them with glee. Behind her trouped a group of girls. Midnight sighed. She didn't like girls. She never felt like she could trust them.

Kid Blink grinned. "No, its just some other guy who looks like me." The girl smiled and walked over to him, wrapping herself in his arms and kissing his lips.

"Mmffh!" he grunted, remembering something and pulled away from her, but still held her. "We got a new girl. I figured you girls could show her the ropes around the lodging house. This is Midnight," he said, gesturing over to where the girl stood with Swifty. The blonde girl smiled at her. "Sure thing," she told her, and went back to kiss Kid Blink.

"Pink, I presume?" Midnight muttered to Swfity. The Asian boy just nodded. Suddenly, Pink was on her, grabbing her hand and pulling her up the stairs.

"It's just great here. You have no idea. All the guys are great, but of course, none of them beat my Blinkie. You'll be in the room with the rest of us girls." They reached the top of the first flight of stairs where the group of girls from earlier were standing, obviously whispering about Midnight. "These are the girls. That's Lint, Flirt, Sweet Potato, Maria, Li'l Bit, Ace, Maggy, Gin, and the little girl in the back is Shrimp. They boys named her. Girls, this is Midnight." They all looked to her with disgust.

"Why are you wearing boys clothing?" the one called Gin questioned rudely.

"Why are you wearing a dress?"

Shrimp came up to her and pulled on her hand. The girl looked to be about seven years old, and pulled Midnight into her past to think of how innocent she had been at seven. It was so long ago. "You look like a boy."

Pink's mouth dropped. "Shrimp! Don't say that!"

"No its okay," Midnight told her. She pulled off her hat, letting her hair fall down from it. The almond locks reached down to about her shoulders, and curled slightly in some places. Midnight ran her hand through her hair, and looked at the small child. "Better?" she asked. Shrimp smiled.

"So anyway," Pink continued, leading the pack up the second set of stairs. "We stay in the attic. That way, the guys don't have a legitimate excuse to be walking past and just 'happen' to see us changing. Although," she winked with a smile, "we don't mind it."

"They normally come up here anyway, excuse or not," remarked a raven-haired Flirt from where she had plopped down on a large chair and began cleaning her nails.

Midnight looked around the attic. It was obviously an attic, warm from the rising heat of the floors below. But the girls had much better accommodations then the level below them. Where down below she had seen bunk beds, Midnight looked around her now to see separate beds for each girl, and a nightstand of their own as well. The girls had personalized their spaces, setting up photographs and personal tokens. Simple math made it obvious to Midnight that there were three beds yet unoccupied. "You can take your pick, Midnight," Pink told her.

As she crawled onto the bed nearest the window, she began to observe the girls.

Shrimp, she started with first. A rather homely young girl, Midnight knew she would be brave and intelligent. Shrimp wouldn't be bothered with courting and etiquette of a beautiful girl, as she would never be one. She would be friends with the guys, and be an active part of their activities. Midnight watched as Shrimp fingered the trinket hanging on her necklace, obviously deep in thought. "Gin?" she asked. "Why does Mr. Pulitzer throw us parties now? I mean, didn't he get embarrassed really big by newsies? Why does he care?"

"Because he's trying to stay on the good side of people in New York," Gin explained. "He doesn't want to loose sales because of a little workers' strike. You'll understand when you're older." But Shrimp seamed to grasp it just fine the way it was. _Observant,_ Midnight decided.

Gin was hard in appearance, harder than a lot of the other people Midnight had encountered in her life. Midnight didn't want to know what was in Gin's past; she feared it might be too like her own. Gin had flaming red hair that was pulled back from her face, which now had a harsh expression. She was yelling at Flirt for not filing her nails right, and Flirt was barking the insults right back at her, but in a way that you could tell they were the best of friends. It seamed that Gin was very _discordant._

And then there was Flirt. She was a pretty girl, but not a foolish one. She seamed to compliment Gin perfectly. As Gin was angry and bitter, Flirt was mild mannered. She knew what to say to get Gin to cool off, and something like that confused Midnight. She hadn't ever had a friend like that; for as long as she could remember, it had always been just Midnight. But Gin wasn't alone in the world, for she had Flirt. Flirt was _harmonious._

As Midnight looked around her, every girl had a friend to be around. On the bed in the corner, a pretty girl named Maria was braiding the hair of Lint, a girl whose face was covered with dirt. By the closet, Sweet Potato and Maggy appeared to be contemplating over dresses. Li'l Bit and Ace were at the table playing cards. Pink, however had flopped onto her own bed and was deep in thought over a book.

"Whatchya reading?" Midnight asked her.

"Les Miserables," she replied, not looking up from the book. "Victor Hugo. Great book."

Midnight had read that one. It was back in the old days, when she had nothing to do but steal and steal again. It would have been a great book. Midnight remembered feeling empty inside when Fantine had died, leaving her daughter parentless. She remembered how Marius and Cosette were so in love, and she remembered feeling empty then too. It was as though she was unable to engage in the story, as she could not feel the emotions.

That night, as Midnight climbed out onto the fire escape and felt the rain pour over her, she thought of those pictures on the nightstands. As she thought about it, Midnight realized she had never had a picture of her family, or herself for that matter. They were forever locked in her memory, no one to recall who they once were. There was no family portrait ever done of the three of them, no serious faced mother and father with a hand each on a grinning daughter. There would never be a photographic record of the Miller family. None of them existed anymore. But as Midnight turned her head towards the open night sky, she let Brittany resurface for a few minutes, and allowed herself to cry.


	11. Chapter 11: Brittany V

"_All rise for the honorable Judge A. E. Monahan presiding," announced the bailiff as the judge entered the courtroom. On each side of Midnight, a cop held firmly to her arm. The pews of the courthouse were mostly empty, with the exception of three people, Captain McSwain, the police chief who caught her in her hiding place, a bald man who Midnight did not recognize, and another man who's face was opposite her and was out of visibility. _

_As the police officers pushed her forward towards him, the Judge spoke out to her. "This is the one? How old are you little girl?"_

"_Ten." _

_The portly judge chuckled. "Getting into it a little early, aren't we? Now then," he said, shuffling papers on his desk. "Case of Brittany Miller," he proclaimed, squinting at the page in his hand. "Charged with theft. I believe we have a victim, is that right Mr. McSwain?" The police officer nodded. "Alright then. Benjamin Harris, would you please tell the court your story? And quickly please, we have many cases to get through today."_

"_Yes, Your Honor," replied the unidentified man in the court pews. He stood up and crossed over to where Midnight stood in front of the judge. "This is the girl," he said. "Stole straight out of my pocket, she did." Harris looked at her disapprovingly. "She ran into me and tricked me. She deceived me, and I pray to God she gets locked up for it." Suddenly, the face was recognized. This was the man who had been Midnight's first robbery. The first step she took into her new life. Midnight quickly became angered._

"_I had nothing!" Midnight defended. "I was living on the streets, and I needed something. Besides," she retorted, "I hadn't ever stolen from anyone when I stole from him. You can't prove I did anything more than that!"_

_The old judge sighed. "Mr. Harris, how much was stolen from you?"_

"_Approximately eight dollar bills," he stated matter-of-factly._

"_And Captain McSwain, were there any findings of money in the place where the accused was found to be hiding?"_

"_Yes, Your Honor. We found a total of twenty-three dollar bills in the young girl's quarters." _

_Harris went ballistic. "I knew it! Send her to jail, I tell you! She's a criminal, a fiend, and a thief! She should be-''_

"_Mr. Harris!" interrupted the judge. "She is a child. Now please, hold some restraint." He turned to face Midnight. "I'm going to be easy on you, but only because you are young. I sentence you to a full return of Mr. Harris's money, and I believe an apology is in order. But mind you, little girl, you're getting off nicely here. I don't ever want to see you in my courts again, you hear?" Midnight nodded, heart beating fast and hard upon her chest. The judge picked up his gavel. "Good. And with that, court is-''_

_A chortled cough interrupted the final decision. "Do you have something you would like to say, Mr. Snyder?"_

_The bald man stood. "Why yes, thank you for asking." Snyder glided up towards the front of the courthouse grinning a malicious grin from ear to ear. "I have to admit, Your Honor, I disagree with your ruling. Children like Miss Miller here need nurturing. I can provide that. Why not let her come stay in the Refuge for a few months, so we may have hope of guiding her down a righteous path and show her that there are other things out there than stealing?" Midnight's heart sank. _

_The judge pondered this for a moment. "Yes, yes I do believe you're right. Okay then," he picked up his gavel, "in the case of Brittany Miller vs. Benjamin Harris, I sentence the accused to six months in the House of Refuge. Next case, please." And with that, the gavel dropped, as did Midnight's hopes. _

_The officers on the sides of the young girl carted her away, and as she passed, it was noted the look on Snyder's face. He held a look of sick pleasure, as though her incarceration was exactly what he had wished for. _

_Later that night, Midnight was dressed in a plain cotton frock sitting in a large bunkroom with many boys. She hadn't taken her supper that night, and she refused to talk to anyone. She simply stared out the barred window at the many streetlights below. _

_A short redheaded boy approached her. "It's not that bad," he began, attempting to console her. "You'll be out of here before you know it. The Refuge is tough, but at least there's a roof over your head." Midnight glared. _

_A week later, after she started accepting her meals for survival only, Midnight sat at her post overlooking the streets. Behind her, she could hear the boys playing some game or another and snickering. A single tear glided down her face as she thought of how she would stay up late listening to her father tell her stories from the old country and giggling with him. Suddenly, a voice caught Midnight's attention._

"_Wonder what would happen if SHE played with us, huh guys?" a loud purposeful voice cried. The surrounding boys snickered and agreed fully with the boy. Midnight turned to see a golden-haired boy staring at her daringly. "But no," he continued, "she's too busy. Besides, I bet she wouldn't be any good at it."_

_Midnight rolled her eyes and turned back towards her window. "Oh! Cowboy! I think she heard you!" another voice teased._

"_So what'dya say Girl? Want to play with us?" the Cowboy taunted. After a few seconds of consideration, Midnight broke resistance and stood up. Dares were just too good for her to pass up._

"_What are you playing?"_

_The boys all laughed triumphantly. "The name of the game is Two Truths, One Lie. Simple, right? You tell us two things that are true about yourself and one thing that's a lie and we have to guess which one is the lie."_

"_Seams kind of primitive," Midnight commented._

"_Well it ain't like we got any dice or cards or nothing," the red-haired boy replied._

"_Right," Cowboy finalized. "Red, you go first."_

_The redhead nodded and pondered for a moment or two. "'Kay. I have three dollars hidden in an old crate in an alley for emergency situations. My baby sister's name is Aaron. Or is it that my younger brother almost killed my mother?"_

"_Too easy," the boys booed. They all claimed it was the one concerning Red's younger brother. "Yeah, no little kid could kill any one and if he did try to, he'd be here with us," one dirty boy called out._

"_What do you think?" Cowboy asked, looking at Midnight intently. _

_She glanced around her at each of the boys as they settled down to listen to her. "It's the first one. No kid would be stupid enough to leave cash lying in the streets. Besides," she added, "haven't you guys ever heard of birthing? Mothers can die from giving birth, ya know." _

"_She's right," Red confirmed. "Your turn then, Girl."_

_Midnight sighed. "Okay then. I can't eat cherries. My mother is a seamstress. I dread my birthday each year."_

"_No one hates their birthday. You're one year closer to getting out of this city. You can't dread your birthday," Cowboy was so sure of himself._

_Suddenly, boots were heard coming up the stairs. The boys scrambled quickly to their respective bunks. Midnight walked casually over to her chair by the window and resumed her watch on the outside world taking secret pleasure in knowing the boy was wrong about her lie._


	12. Chapter 12: First Day

Midnight didn't sleep at all that night. When the other girls woke up, the found her sitting on the windowsill feeling the early morning breeze fill the room.

Twenty minutes later, the girls were down the stairs to meet up with the boys. Pink immediately latched onto Kid Blink, leaving Midnight standing by herself. It wasn't long before she felt a presence behind her though, and as she turned around, she noticed that Swifty was standing there with her. "Sleep good?" he asked.

"Didn't sleep at all," she told him.

"You weren't kidding about your name were you?" Midnight only smiled. "So, you think you're going to sell by yourself today?"

She shrugged. "Might as well. I wont learn anything unless I get up and learn it for myself."

Swifty nodded. "Good idea," he told her.

A while later, they had reached the distribution office. "One," she ordered from Weasel, slapping down a penny. The grey-haired man eyed Midnight strangely, but motioned for Morris to hand her a paper nonetheless. Midnight took her pape, but instead of moving on as she was supposed to, she stood there at the window and read the paper.

"Move aside, Girl!" Weasel yelled at her. But she stayed put and read her paper. Suddenly, she looked up at the livid old man.

"Forty-nine papes," she pronounced, laying out some change in front of Weasel. He looked at her incredulously, but nonetheless, motioned once more for Morris to hand her the papers.

"What was that?" Swifty questioned.

"I figure that if I'm going to buy, I might want to know what there is to sell," she replied shrugging.

"You're a very sensible girl, Midnight," Racetrack commented. "We're not used to sensible. We're used to ditzes and bitches." He motioned behind him towards Pink and Gin.

"Watch it," Blink warned.

"And your parents wanted to send you to finishing school?" Crutchy asked.

She laughed. "I'm fit for the street, and no better." Her expression turned stony as she muttered. "I've learned that the hard way. Anyway," she picked up her papes and took leave of the boys.


	13. Chapter 13: Meeting Up

Just as Midnight sold her last pape, she heard a commotion behind her. Turning quickly, she took in the scene before her. About fifty yards ahead, a woman was crying out to a nearby police officer. Beside her, a young boy was frozen stiff holding a small purse.

"Rookie," Midnight muttered. But as she looked closer at the thief, she recognized the horrified face. She sprinted towards the boy and pulled him into the alley just as the police officer started towards the scene.

"What are you doin'!" the boy screamed at her.

She glanced behind her, and to her misfortune, the police officer was hot in pursuit of them. "RUN you idiot!"

They ran through the alley, running into the open street beyond it. Dodging apple sellers, they pushed through the townspeople. In the opposite alley, Midnight grabbed hold of the fire escape and pulled the ladder down and the boy crawled up. Midnight followed, and once they were both on the rooftop, she pulled him through the door leading downstairs and they were covered in darkness. The dark was a good sign; it meant that the place was still as deserted as it had been when she left it.

Feeling her hands along the wall, she found the door to the top floor and it open. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Midnight saw everything was the way it had been the day ol' McSwain had captured her. She lit the candles using matches that she had stored years earlier under the loosened floorboard.

"Seven years," she muttered to herself, fingering the old books strewn across her mattress.

"Are you crying?" the boy questioned.

She had forgotten he was there. "No," she assured, drying her face with her sleeve.

He leaned over to look at her more closely. "You're the new girl, aren't you?" She glanced at him and nodded. "I'm Skittery." He stuck out his hand.

"I know who you are," she told him, refusing the hand. Midnight walked over to the mirrors that lined the walls of the old dance studio. It was hard for her to believe that it was so long ago that it was in front of these very same mirrors she had taken on her new life.

"Where are we?" he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She sighed. "I used to live here." She turned around and glared at the boy. "Why were you pick pocketing? You're a newsie, not a thief."

"Listen, you can't tell Jack about this. It was a one time deal. I was desperate."

"Yeah, well so was I," she yelled back at him. "I was desperate for survival. What are you desperate for?" she sneered.

Skittery shoved his hands into his pockets. "Abigail." Midnight grunted with disgust. "Her birthday is coming up, and I wanted to give her something she deserves."

"Her father's a lawyer, Skittery! You shouldn't have to get her anything."

"But, I want to show up her father. I want to get her something she'll like way more than anything he might get her. How do you know any of this anyway?"

"I make it my business to know!" She immediately regretted her words. She had told him too much.

He glanced sideways at her. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," she turned away from him.

Skittery grabbed her shoulders firmly and turned her around. "It didn't sound like nothing."

For a moment, Midnight's body became faint at his touch. She discarded the feeling quickly though, reminding herself of her past. "It was nothing," she spat back at him, regaining her composure.

He released his grip on her and stepped away. "It seams strange that a girl supposed to be sent to finishing school would have lived in a place such as this." Midnight bit her lip. "It seams I know a few things myself," he said coyly. "Don't tell Jack about my incident today and I'll keep your little secret, whatever it is."

"You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours, huh?"

He grinned. "Exactly."

"Okay," she sighed.

A few minutes passed before Skittery broke the silence. "So are you going to tell me your real story or what?"

"I think I'll save that card for when it will work for my benefit. Come on," she said, picking up her things. "Let's get to Tibby's."

Midnight made a silent promise to return to the old apartment, then headed on her way.


	14. Chapter 14: Brittany VI

"_Guys!" Red squealed from his perch by the window. "Midnight's back!" The rest of the boys crowded around him and watched as a blonde haired detective literally handed their escaped friend into the Refuge Guard's hands. They all saw Snyder exchange a few words with him, and pull Midnight into the Refuge._

_It was April of 1893, and it had been a full four months since the young girl had escaped. Police found it hard to trace her in the cold of the winter months, so the search had been abandoned until a week earlier, when Detective Kline reopened the case._

"_Where were ya, Midnight?" one small boy asked later that night after she had been returned to her former lodgings. _

"_I found an old abandoned apartment. Stayed there with a few other kids until they caught me."_

"_How? How'd the get ya, Girl?" Red questioned._

_She sighed. "Just like the first time. Caught me in the act. I guess I'm just lucky that they didn't get me at the factory, or else the other kids would be here with me."_

"_What's it like?" a dreamy-eyed boy asked her. _

"_The streets are paved with chocolate and buildings are made of gingerbread," she told him sarcastically._

_The boy's ears perked up. "Really?"_

"_No!" she retorted, swatting his shoulder. "Of course not. Its just like it is here. 'Cept no Snyder. I think that's the best part about free life. No Snyder." The boys laughed. "Hey! Where's Wise-Ass?"_

_Red sat up. "You mean Cowboy?" She nodded. "He got out. Little after you did. The governor came to visit, and he rode out with him. Of course," he nudged the kid next to him, "Gov'nor didn't exactly know that, now did he?" The boys fell into regular jokes with each other, but Midnight was lost to the commotion._

"_Oh," she muttered, disappointed. There was something intriguing to Cowboy, and she had wanted to return to find out exactly what that had been. 'I guess I'll never know,' she thought to herself. _


	15. Chapter 15: Lunch

The bell tinkled behind her as Midnight walked into Tibby's after Skittery. Usual hellos came from all except Swifty. "What happened to going out alone?" he whispered to her accusingly as she slid into the booth.

She glanced over at him. "Is it my fault I met him along the way?" Swifty rolled his eyes and went back to his food. He didn't say anything else to her the rest of the time.

"So, uh, how did you two end up sellin' together?" Jack asked, eyes boring into Skittery's.

Skittery glanced over at Midnight, then replied, "We didn't sell together. We just happened to walk in at the same time. No big deal in that, is there?"

"That true, Midnight?"

Skittery turned to look at her, warning her to keep shut. "Yeah, that's true," she said. She could feel Swifty stiffening next to her. "Besides," she continued. "Why should you care? I mean, so what if we were to sell together. What's the big deal?"

The boys all began to talk at once, but it was Racetrack who got the message across the most clearly. "You crazy? Imagine if Abigail saw you even talking to him. The fact that she's not supposed to be seeing Skittery wouldn't stop her from telling her father, who would in turn kill the both of you." Throughout Race's explanation, the boy in question seamed to become very interested in his lap, and was staring intently at it.

"You have to be kidding me. No one is as possessive as that."

"Why do you think he wasn't sitting with us when you came here yesterday?" Blink remarked. "She has him wrapped around her finger." At this, Skittery stood up and left.

"Skittery!" Midnight stood and followed him. "Skittery, wait up!" she cried after him.

He turned on her suddenly. "Don't follow me! I don't want the guys getting the wrong impression and telling Abigail any lies."

Midnight was shocked. "I just wanted to help," she whispered.

"Listen," he sighed, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I appreciate everything you did for me today, but you can't talk to me. I can't talk to you. Too many things could happen because of it." And with that, he turned and left her standing on the sidewalk, dumbstruck.

Why was she doing this? Why had she stood up and followed him? Why had she even cared? But no matter how much she didn't want to, Midnight did care. "Don't," she whispered to herself. "Don't get involved. Stay on the sidelines and observe, watch Hammer and keep on track."

"What about me?" Midnight turned around suddenly, and saw Hammer standing behind her, grinning his mischievous little grin. "I heard my name."

"Oh, that. It was nothing. Excuse me," she said as she walked past him back towards the restaurant. She stopped suddenly, as she felt his hand grab her rear, and was about to turn around and slap him when Swifty came out of Tibby's. He saw the scene before him, and without saying a word, swung his hand back and landed a punch square on Hammer's nose.

"Come on," he said, pulling Midnight away. Midnight glanced back and saw to her delight that Hammer's nose had begun to bleed.


	16. Chapter 16: Thoughts

That night, Midnight was back on the fire escape, thinking. Something was different about her. She knew it was. Before, she would have never let a guy take someone else out for her, much less be happy about it if he did. And yet, just that afternoon she let Swifty beat into Hammer on her behalf, and it made her gleeful.

And what about Skittery? She couldn't like him. She wasn't capable of it; this much she was sure of. But then what was she feeling? What was going on with him? And what did he mean 'things would happen' if they talked? Is Abigail truly that obsessive?

Nothing seamed normal for her anymore. She needed to be normal if she was going to crack this case, and she needed to crack the case so she could prove to Andrew what she was worth. But what should she do to become normal again?

She considered the options. She could always stay away from the newsies for a while, go to her old apartment building and get her brain straightened out. "But what if he strikes while I'm gone?" she thought out loud. That option was out of the question.

Then she would have leave Skittery alone. It was obvious that when she was around her, she was different. She decided to busy herself with other things, like watching Hammer, gaining the other girls trust, and hanging around with Swifty.

Which was exactly what she did.


	17. Chapter 17: Gaining Trust

The next day, Midnight walked into Tibby's only to be greeted by Skittery's chest. She looked up to see a frustrated boy staring straight ahead, focusing on what was beyond her. "Excuse me," he muttered, pushing past her and out the door. Midnight sighed. Things were not going to be easy.

Through the window, a familiar red head was glaring at Midnight. She didn't move her fixed gaze for anything, even when Skittery came up and placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her down the sidewalk. _Abigail,_ Midnight thought to herself when the couple disappeared from her view.

She shook her head and started towards the table, to where Swifty moved over to make room for her opposite Kid Blink, Pink, and Racetrack. "How's sellin'?" Racetrack asked.

She shrugged. "Is it considered normal to have sold only ten papes by lunchtime?"

"I got ya beat," Swifty said. "I've only sold seven."

"Yeah, but you only bought twenty to begin with!"

"See," Racetrack started, "you gotta know what you've got to sell with. Today was a bad headline, and as a beginner, you aren't going to be able to twist that one into a good one. Swifty here understands that he can't hawk the headlines any better then the guys who write 'em, so he doesn't buy as much."

"So buying fifty papers wasn't a good idea, I take it?" They all laughed. "That's okay. I like the challenge."

"You'll get it eventually," Swifty told her as he put his arm around her shoulder.

"I better, or else I'm going to end up crawling back home to my parents and being shipped off to etiquette school." She was getting better about remembering her story, reminding herself that it was more important not to be discovered than it was to make friends with these newsies.

Swifty grinned down at her. "Nah, even if you don't get it, you wont ever have to go back to them. I promise."

_Safe,_ she decided. _This feels safe. That's why I like it._ She sat there like that, smiling inwardly at the feeling until a new sensation swept over her. She became suddenly aware of someone watching her. She looked up to see Pink's eyes boring into her own.

"Midnight, let's go sell the rest of our papes, shall we?" she said as she stood up and grabbed Midnight's arm.

"But- what about food?" Midnight interjected as she was being dragged off.

"Get used to hunger."

Once they were safely out of the restaurant Pink loosened her grip on Midnight, and instead, looped her arm through the other girl's. "We need to talk," she told her.

"About?" Midnight asked, feeling very much out of place with this girl. Once again, she didn't like girls.

"Men," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Ah." Midnight stopped. "Well, it's been nice chatting with you, but I really must go and-''

"Nuh-uh!" Pink interrupted, grabbing hold of Midnight's wrist. "You're not escaping this one. You have to tell me. What is your stance on our little newsboys in there?"

She sighed. "I don't have one."

"Oh come on! You can't ignore the fact that they're all gorgeous in some way or another! Just tell me! I might be able to set something up…"

"See, but that's just it. I have to ignore it. For my survival."

Pink eyed her suspiciously. _Damnit, Midnight,_ she thought to herself._ You can't keep letting your guard down. Start watching what you say!_

"It's just that, I don't trust myself to trust anyone."

"Then you shouldn't be treating Swifty like that. No!" she said before Midnight could protest. "You can't deny it. He cares for you, and if you don't care about him too, you don't deserve to be here."

"Whoa!" Midnight started. "What do you mean he cares for me? Not romantically, I hope!"

"No!" Pink exploded. "You clod! Can't you understand that someone can actually like you as a person?" Pink rubbed her temples, and paused for a moment. "Swifty can't like you like that. He's kind of tied up elsewhere…" she trailed off.

Midnight eyed her suspiciously. "Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to force it out of you?"

Pink smiled, obviously happy to go into gossip mode. "Follow me," she said, and waited until the two girls were safely up in the attic of the Lodging House to continue with her story.

Then, after a moment of silence came, "Swifty has a baby."

Shock.

"What do you mean he has a baby!"

"Well," Pink began and flopped down on the bed next to Midnight. "He's actually married."

"You lie."

But Pink just shook her head with glee. "I'm not. She lives in Albany with her parents."

Midnight's eyebrows furrowed. "Why doesn't she live with Swifty?"

"He's actually from Albany. They fell in love, and then they eloped when she found out she was pregnant. When she began to show, her parents knew. And they didn't approve of Swifty, so they kept her from him, and they didn't know that the two of them were married. But when they told her parents, they didn't believe it. So now they have to wait until she's eighteen and she can move to New York with Swifty. He's a newsie so he can possibly have a place for her and the baby to stay when she is able to move in with him." Pink gave her hair a toss, enjoying the gossip. "Isn't that romantic? I mean, Blink wouldn't get me pregnant in the first place, but if he did I'd want him to be as devoted to me as Swifty is to Elizabeth."

Midnight couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. A mother, a father, and a little child; it was all too familiar. Too much of a fairytale to end well. Quickly, she changed the subject. "So you and Blink. How did that work out?"

She laughed. "He and I are just so much alike, you know? The boys helped me out of a sticky situation and when I met him, I just- I fell for him. It was instantaneous. Love at first sight kind of thing, you know?"

Midnight rolled her eyes. _Love. Yeah, right._ "What situation were you in?"

Pink sat up straight, obviously not wanting to go there. "It's kind of complicated."

"I'm a good listener," Midnight coaxed, trying to gain Pink's trust.

Pink eyed her up and down, weighing Midnight's dependability. "Okay," she conceded finally. "But you have to promise that you wont judge me too quickly by it. Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you promise?" Pink cried.

"Yes! I promise."

Pink stared at her hands for a few seconds, suddenly interested in the way her fingers twisted together. Eventually, she sighed and began her story. "I worked in a brothel for a while," she muttered.

"That's all?" Midnight laughed. "I was expecting you to admit killing some guy or something like that!" Pink's nervousness didn't cease, however. "You didn't, right?"

Pink looked Midnight in the eye, desperately. "I didn't kill anybody, but I was close to it. After I got out of the whorehouse, a few of my former customers kept on me, trying to get me to go to bed with them. I refused, obviously. That was the sort of thing I wanted to escape from. But then, one night," here she stood and walked over to the window, "down in this alley, two of them got a hold of me. They were brothers. And they ganged up on me, pushing me up against the buildings walls. I was so shocked, I couldn't get any breath out, until one of them ripped my dress and I screamed and pushed them off of me. The one dropped his pocketknife, and well- I used it."

Midnight's mouth dropped. "What did you do?"

Pink gripped her knuckles firmly, turning her hands white. "I tried to stab at them. I got one of them in the arm, but the other one dodged me and threw me to the ground. That's when I started screaming. A few of the guys were just getting back from a show at Medda's, and they heard the struggle. And well, you know our boys. Had to play the hero." She chuckled. "I was a wreck afterwards, so Kloppman threw down some sheets on the spare bunks that were up here in the attic so I could sleep. I guess I wore out the invitation, because I just never left."

"So you were the first girl here?"

Pink nodded. "One by one they came. And each time, I thought Blink liked them more than me. I mean, this was before I knew how he felt about me, and he was just my wild fantasy. But then he kissed me, randomly and for no reason one night, and I knew the fantasy had become reality."

Midnight lied down on the bed. Her head was spinning with so much information and back-story told to her in one go, but pieces were beginning to fall into places.

_Swifty has a family. A real one, complete with a wife and a child. That makes him a father and a husband. Okay, _she thought to herself, _I can handle that one. _

_Pink is a former whore. _She chuckled some, suddenly realizing it was only a little more than a week since she had been a part of that very same profession._ She can also get very protective of herself and her belongings at times. _

And of course, last but not least, _The newsies will take in anyone._

That seamed to explain a lot. They care so much for each other, and even though most of them had shady pasts, they accepted each and every one of them. Cripples like Crutchy were defended and cared for, beaten and bruised ones like Pink were sheltered, and the runaways, like Midnight, were understood and accepted. They looked out for the ones who had obvious problems, like Skittery. The boys with goals and dreams are encouraged.

But what did all of this say about Hammer? He was the only newsie who was not accepted, and his attitude obviously repulses everyone. So what caused them to take him in? Why would anyone want to be around Hammer?

She was about to ask her new gossip partner and ask for Hammer's story, but was cut short when the other girls entered the warm attic, giggling and discussing dresses. "What's going on?" Pink asked them.

"Medda's throwing us a party!" Sweet Potato cried out gleefully.

Pink's face lifted. "She's what?"

"A party, Blondie," Gin sneered at her. In turn for her rudeness, Flirt hit Gin lightly on the shoulder.

"We're not quite sure why, but Medda is throwing us a party. All the Manhattan newsies are going to be there." She eyed Midnight. "That includes you now too, you know."

Midnight was taken back by Flirt's bluntness, taking the invitation as more of an order. "What if I don't want to be there? I mean, I hardly know who this Medda character is."

Ace hardly looked up from where she was digging in her nightstand to explain. "…Vaudeville star…nice to us," she mumbled.

"But I don't have a dress."

Pink squealed. "We'll just have to take care of that then, wont we?" She turned to the other girls, who carefully took in Midnight's face and figure, suddenly interested in her physicality. "So girls. What are we going to do with this tomboy?"


	18. Chapter 18: Brittany VII

_Adrenaline pulsated through her as she crept down the creaking hallway. 'Just a few more feet,' she told herself as she inched towards the door._

_Only minutes earlier she was in the bunkroom with the others. "What are you doin', Girl?" Red had asked as she silently stood up. No one left their bed after lights out, not even to go to the bathroom. Anyone who did got a thorough thrashing from Snyder. "You're not thinkin' anything stupid, are ya Girl?"_

_Midnight hardly glanced his way to reply. "I'm runnin', Red," she whispered back._

_The scrawny redhead jumped in front of her. "Midnight, don't be doin' anything you're gunna regret-"_

"_Shut up," she hissed at him as other boys started to sit up and watch them. "I'm sick of it. I can't live like this anymore, Red, not after the way I lived before April. So you have two choices: you can step out of my way and let me be, or you can come with. What's it going to be?"_

"_If they find us out here, we're going to die," Red whispered to Midnight as she reached for the door that led to the roof. Midnight chose to ignore his comments; they were only going to make her more nervous than she already was. Her blood was pushing its way steadily to her brain, giving her what she needed to do her best sneaking. 'It would be easier if I didn't have the extra person, though,' she silently complained. She hadn't honestly thought that Red would want to go back to the outside. _

_Slowly, Midnight turned the doorknob and opened the door. Oddly enough, the door didn't creak at all when opened, and neither did the stairs. It seamed too good to be true, but nonetheless, they made it up to the roof without a single noise. _

_Red darted for the fire escape as soon as his foot hit the rooftop. "Stop!" Midnight croaked, but the damage had already been done. She could here scuffling from below. "Go!" She yelled and dashed after Red. He scrambled down the sets of stairs, and just as Midnight's head dropped from the rooftop, she saw Snyder burst through the door in a bathrobe. "Hurry, Red."_

_And as she jumped down from the escape onto the walk, Snyder's head looked down from the roof. "Beat it," both Midnight and Red said simultaneously, and hurried off into the dark night._

_Twenty minutes worth of running later, the two of them crawled into an alley. Both were tired and slightly buzzed from the escape. Red was wheezing slightly, and Midnight started wishing for a warm blanket, as the cold winter months were about to set in. "What now, Girl?" Red asked, his usual charm and charisma gone from his face. It quickly dawned on Midnight that she was no longer responsible for only herself. She had pulled Red into this mess, and now she had to take care of him. _

"_What do you mean, Red?"_

"_Well, aren't you the big escape artist? The streetwise one who lived by herself and fled from cops for all those months? What do we do?"_

_She sighed and put her arm around him. "I'm not quite sure, Red. I'm just not sure." And there, in a dark corner of a dark alley, two eleven year olds, depending only on each other's warmth, fell asleep._


	19. Chapter 19: Whiskey

Midnight sat there, in a fluff of green frills, wishing she could murder the other girls.

Oh sure, it was all fine and dandy when they prodded her for days over what color her dress, and how they should do her hair. And she almost felt like a girl when they all entered the theatre, arm in arm and ready to take over. Maybe she was even ready to have fun when the guys came up and whisked girl after girl away and to the dance floor. Until all the girls had abandoned her, leaving Midnight to sulk at the table with all the drinks.

There had been a stack of cards sitting there, probably for the use of a poker game, one of the newsies' favorite ways to pass the time. Midnight sat there counting and shuffling card after card, and soon enough, she began to look at the glasses of whiskey around her differently. Suddenly, there was something very appealing in the amber liquor that sat there. "It's mocking me," she told herself. Even in her hellion days, she had never turned to alcohol. She always thought it smelt badly.

But then and there, the thought of a mind-numbing substance seamed exactly what she needed. So Midnight reached out and grasped the glass, downing it in one swing. The cool liquid slid down her throat, but instead of quenching, it demanded more of her thirst. And right next to her left elbow another glass mocked her, beckoning. She downed it faster than she had the first one. Slowly it started. She emptied every glass at the table, and began to feel her worries and her cares slip away. Then someone started to slide into focus. Midnight rubbed at her eyes to see who the familiar voice was, but when the shadow ordered a few more drinks for her, Midnight stopped caring.

The figure inched closer and closer to her, until he was so close, his mouth was whispering something in her ear. Midnight only smiled, enjoying the numbness of her body and how it was suddenly easier to move to the music being sun gin the background. She couldn't have been happier, until she suddenly felt a hand firmly placed on the inside of her thigh. Needless to say, she sobered up quickly.

Quickly she jerked away from the body, squinting to see who it had been who stood so close. Everything came into focus fast, and when she put the face together with the voice, her stomach lurched forward. "Hammer. I should have known you would do something scummy like that," she hissed at him.

He mocked a look of hurt. "I was just trying to make a lady feel special! Since no one else seams to care about you, I thought I'd ask you to dance," he took a step closer and grasped her elbows.

"Just leave me alone, Hammer, and I wont tell Jack you were here."

His yellow eyes glinted with glee. "And what if I don't give you the chance to tell Jack, hm? What then?" His grasp tightened, and Midnight suddenly realized exactly what kind of danger she was in. She tried to strike him, but her drinks were catching up to her and caused her mobile skills to weaken.

"Leave me alone!" she shouted and began to beat against his chest, crying out obsenities to him as he pulled her away. She was beginning to feel unconsciousness creep in when cries were heard from behind her. Midnight could feel Hammer begin to pick up speed.

Someone next to her yelled at him, which sent her head spinning. Suddenly, a fist shot out at Hammer, and sent him sprawling to the ground, pulling Midnight down with him. Midnight scrambled up just as the newsies and their entourage dashed up to her. "Bitches," she said directly to the other girls before she passed out completely.


	20. Chapter 20: Threats

Life continued for Midnight as a Newsie. Hammer hadn't been seen for about a month, and as Thanksgiving Day drew nearer, they all knew what they had to be thankful for. Hammer seamed to understand that if he were to return to the lodging house, his presence would be even less appreciated. A few new kids had strolled in, and it was nice to see that she wasn't the newest one around anymore.

And she never returned to Medda's, as that first experience dampened her view of the vaudeville performer's establishment. When the others went out, Midnight usually spent the night at the lodging house, sitting on the roof with a cigarette in hand while she waited for the others to get home. Some nights Pink or Swifty would sit with Midnight, trying to be good friends, but on this particular night, neither one chose to stick around. So it surprised her when she heard someone clambering up the stairs to get to the roof.

Midnight turned around puzzled, taking a long drag of her cigarette before stepping on it and walking towards the door. It opened, and out tumbled a furious redheaded girl, who was breathing hard as though she had been walking quite fast to get to Midnight. The girl When looked up, and Midnight suddenly recognized the face. "Abigail?"

The girl straightened up and brushed her hands down her dress and hair before replying. "You must be Midnight." She stuck out her hand. "It's nice to finally meet you." The cold blue eyes that bore into Midnight's green ones suggested that she felt otherwise. Midnight refused the handshake, Abigail simply continued. "Well, I came here to have a civilized conversation with you, but I can see it might be a little difficult."

"What do you want, Abigail? Where's Skittery?" Midnight was grounded to the spot.

"Why should you care?" Abigail's eyes were glowing with rage, and she took a few steps towards Midnight. "I'm not going to beat around the bush here, 'Midnight,' so I'm just going to come out and tell you to leave Skittery alone. If you think you can come between us, you are mistaken."

Midnight stepped towards Abigail. Midnight wasn't a necessarily tall person, but now she was towering over Abigail. "Is that a threat?" Abigail's spin straightened. "Let me tell you something, Priss, you have no idea what I've gone through or what I've done. I haven't even spoken to Skittery in weeks. And you're accusing me of trying to steal him from you?"

"I'm supposed to believe that? Then why, when you walk into Tibby's at lunchtime, does Skittery wring his hands together, and why does he slip up his words? Like his mind is in other places? And why does he tense up at the mere mention of your name? I mean it, you little slut, leave him alone."

Midnight glared at the girl. "Get out, Abigail. Go home to your daddy and leave the people who have real problems alone." Then, from behind Abigail, the door opened again.

"What's going on up here?" Skittery cried.

Abigail turned around with a flourish, sending hair flying in all directions. "Skittery!"

Skittery's eyes narrowed. "Abigail, why did you leave Medda's?" He took a few steps, glancing suspiciously between Midnight and Abigail.

"That's none of your business, Skittery," Abigail told him calmly, once more straightening to her full height of about 5 feet. Her façade held up well, until a muffled hiccup escaped her thin mouth.

"Abigail," Skittery groaned, "how much did you have to drink?"

"I'm not drunk," she told him coolly. "I came here to have a girl-to-girl conversation with Midnight. And now we're finished. Right, Midnight?" Abigail was glaring.

Midnight just nodded.

"Fine then." And with that, Abigail walked back downstairs, leaving Skittery and Midnight up there alone.

And now it was his turn to be glaring. "I told you to leave me alone."

"She came here!" Midnight cried appaulingly. "I was just sitting here."

Skittery shook his head. "Stay away," he told her before he headed downstairs after Abigail. Midnight could feel a headache coming on, so she lit up a second cigarette to help numb her. Things were getting rough around the lodging house. _What am I still here for?_ Midnight questioned herself. Hammer was gone. Wasn't he the reason she was here? To prove him to be the serial killer so she could rub it in Andrew's face that she could crack a case without his help?

Sighing, Midnight put out the cigarette and headed downstairs.


	21. Chapter 21: Brittany VIII

_Midnight awoke with a start. She glanced at the clocks hanging in the clock worker's shop across the street, and discovered that it had only been twenty minutes since she fell asleep. "Why do I even try?" she asked herself out loud. _

_She huddled in closer to Red, trying to keep the boy warm with her own body heat. In response, he was attacked by another fit of coughs, causing him to wake up. It was the beginning of December, and things were getting worse every day for the two of them. During the day, they had to be dangerously careful of where they went in the city, steering clear of Manhattan where they were likely to be recognized. For most of the days, they camped out on the Brooklyn side of the river. Red would tell stories, at first telling her of his childhood and his family, small at first, but eventually the same stories would evolve and become huge extravaganzas. Midnight just smiled as he acted various scenes out, all the while lamenting the fact that he was with her in the first place. It was hard to be responsible for someone besides yourself._

_Every so often, Red would pause one of his performances long enough for the two of them to just sit and talk. He often spoke of how much he loved the river, how beautiful it was, and how he hoped that he would live in New York all his life just so that he could see the river every day. After their talks, he would stand up and start the act all over again, adding and changing the story once again._

_It was during one such performances that Red didn't notice the river behind him, and as he was impersonating his older brother wrestle a lion back in Ireland, he slipped in. The mud underneath was just mucky enough that the more Red tried to pull himself out of the already freezing water, the further under he slid, the currant catching him and pulling him into the river. Quickly, Midnight threw her arms around the boy, and pulled him out of the river before he was in any deeper. He was in up to his waist, but since neither of them had winter clothes, it was difficult to warm him up._

_The next night the fits started. Red would wake up shivering, even if they were lying next to a spare heater in a homeless shelter, a place Midnight's pride would have never let her go until just a few days earlier, and the shivers would be joined by coughing spells that would last as long as an hour, during which Midnight did her best to hold on to him as tightly as he could and stroke his hair the way her mother did before- well, when she was still Brittany. _

_But tonight was different. As Red sat there coughing into her shoulder as she caressed him, Midnight began to feel a dampness that had never been there before. She moved his head just slightly, and noticed that there was a dark spot on her shirt. It took a moment to register with Midnight what was happening. That was blood that was on her shirt, and that means it must have come from Red. He was coughing up blood!_

_She looked over at him, where he had momentarily stopped coughing. His eyes had rolled back into his head, and as she sat there calling his name, he fainted. Tears started streaming down her face, and she tried looking for help, but she was afraid to go too far, as she was scared as to what might happen to him if she ventured too far. She was restless, and she kept checking for a pulse, but only a faint one was to be found. _At least it's something,_ she told herself. _

_She found rest finally in the early morning hours, but when she woke up, that faint heartbeat was no longer present. Red had died on the morning of December 11th, 1893, only a month after breaking out of the Refuge. It would have been Midnight's twelfth birthday._

_Midnight wasted no time. She stole once more, this time not caring who noticed or who saw or whether or not she got caught. She stole a lot, ending up with ten dollars, which she took to a crematorium in Brooklyn to hassle with the clerk, who eventually agreed to Midnight's request. Going to the exact spot where Red fell into the water, Midnight dropped in half of Red's ashes. She took the other half and dumped it into the ocean, keeping only a little for herself. Cremations were generally frowned upon in New York, but they were practiced. Midnight didn't care what society would have thought of her decision for Red; she wasn't about to let his body lay in the streets. And this way, Red was finally a part of the river._

_Three days later, she walked into the police station in Manhattan, head held high, and demanded to speak with Detective Andrew Kline._


	22. Chapter 22: A Chance Meeting

"Deadly Battles Arise in the Wild West! Thousands Perish!" Midnight was getting better and better at this headline thing. The actual article spoke of the smallpox disease rather than a bloody war with cowboys and Indians, but it wasn't like anyone else knew that. With this revised headline, Midnight got nibbles out of a few pock-marked boys around her age, probably with wild fantasies of the West. There were a few housewives who were eager to know what was going on out there too, and also one exasperated mother who, pulled over by her rambunctious son, pressed a nickel into Midnight's hand and ran off before she had the chance to realize that it wasn't the penny she thought she had given.

In a last ditch effort to sell everything before heading over to Tibby's, Midnight called out the headline again. No one. It wasn't like there wasn't anybody around to hear her; Central Park was filled with people walking around for a quiet break despite the slight December chill. There were a few mothers over under a nearby tree watching their young children at play in the snow. A painter had set up his station to her left, and some people were gathered around him, watching him at his work. A man was huddled with his head in his hands on a bench not far behind her. She called it out a little louder this time, trying to persistently annoy all who were around.

"If I buy your goddamn paper, will you shut up and go away?" the man behind her grumbled. Midnight spun around, feeling her anger building. It's not like Midnight wanted to be out here, standing in the snow with nothing but a few rags on her frame. But she needed to make some money, didn't she?

But that was just the thing: She didn't have to make any money. She had a lot of cash left after the Benedict affair, so she really had no need. There was just a cover to follow through with, but a useless cover it was turning out to be since Hammer had vanished. Which led Midnight to that same question she'd been asking for weeks: _What the hell am I still doing here?_ But as much sense as it made to leave, she just couldn't bring herself to do it.

Midnight rolled her eyes. "That was the point all along." She crossed her arms over her chest, which was surprisingly flat. Being a boy was drew better sales, she discovered. Binding had turned out to be an effective skill she caught on from her spy days. "Look. Do you want a paper or not?"

The man looked up at her, his vision obviously blurred some. A pang of horror shot through her. _It can't be, _she reassured himself. _He'd never come to Central Park in the middle of the day. _No, it just wasn't him.

But, even more horrifying, it really was him. He held out a penny. Without thinking, Midnight extended her hand to take it. An electric shock hit her fingers when they brushed against his. He seamed unmoved by it. When she handed him his paper, he simply dropped it to the ground. He covered his face with his hands once more, and Midnight took in the sight of him. It was him, alright. The same golden-boy hair, same chiseled jaw, same broad shoulders. The only thing unfamiliar about him was his distress. He never showed emotion. Ever.

And suddenly, Midnight was _pissed._ Not her usual grouchiness, but full-out rage. "Pff. Some detective you are," she spat at him with disgust without thinking about it. He looked up at her. "You don't even recognize your own agents when they're standing right in front of you." She threw the remainder of her papes at him furiously and stormed off.

"Wha-?"

Midnight could hear footsteps starting behind her, so she broke into a sprint. She didn't make it very far though, as she slipped on a patch of ice and fell on her ass. "Damnit!" she cried. What happened to being a clever elusive spy? She groaned as blood seeped out of her left hand.

And of course, he was looming over her before she even had the chance to stand up. He pulled her up with a firm grasp on her arms, and knowing him the way she did, Midnight knew it was hopeless to try and wiggle free from him. So instead of attempting it, she spat right into his eye. Or would have, if he didn't know her as well and turned her to the side, sensing an attack. "I hate you, Andrew Kline," she sneered.

"Try that again, Midnight, and you'll hate me even more." Midnight doubted that was possible, but didn't say so. His grip was getting stronger, and his temper was running away from him. "Where the hell have you been? What were you thinking? I could have really used you!" He was shaking her with rage, and at this point, had his face right up into her own. For a split second, Midnight found herself enjoying the close proximity. She could smell him, mostly sweat but a faint scent of his aftershave. When she realized what was going through her mind, Midnight started to squirm. Andrew seamed to go through the same emotions, because after that, he set her down.

"Sorry," he said, and sighed. "I didn't mean to grip you so hard. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she told him, even though she was sure there would be some bruises on her arms later on. "Just dandy."

"Uh, what happened to your, um, figure? You are eating, aren't you?" Midnight was suddenly acutely aware of his staring at her.

"It's binding. I find it less stressful to be a boy." She crossed her arms over her flat chest and his eyes flew to her face.

He looked confused. He took a step closer, much to Midnight's dismay. She had to hold her ground. No signs of weakness allowed. But that was getting increasingly harder to do. "Who are you trying to be?" he asked softly, as though he didn't want anyone but her to hear the question.

"I'm a newsie, now. And I'm going to crack the Folley case without your help, Mr. Kline." Midnight tried to look as powerful as she could standing in the shadow of her tall ex-boss. Or was he still her boss? Midnight waved the thought; it wasn't important now.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "And how's that going for you, Miss Miller?" He clenched his hands behind his back and looked at her knowingly. Her real name was rocky territory with Midnight.

"It's going quite well, actually. I have a few very interesting leads, as a matter of fact," she replied. _Make that had a few very interesting leads._ No need to let him know that.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. It is so."

They stood there, glaring at each other, with nothing to say to one another. Midnight's arms were crossed across her chest, and Andrew with his hands still behind his back. It had become a staredown, and they both knew it. Power was something they always struggled for with each other. And this time, neither one came out the victor.

"Midnight!" someone cried out at her. Both Midnight and Andrew turned to the source of the noise. There was Swifty, running over to her. "Midnight! Hey!"

"Your lover?" Andrew asked her with a hint of laughter. "Isn't he a bit too- I don't know- _beggar_ for your tastes?"

If looks could kill, Midnight would have yet another crime on her hands. "I hate you."

"Midnight," Swifty reached them, panting. "There's an emergency at Tibby's. Hammer's back, and he took out Snipeshooter!"

_Finally!_ "Duty calls, Mr. Kline. I'm sure you understand," she told him curtly. Swifty grabbed her hand and started running off. Midnight looked back at Andrew one last time, noting with glee a slight glint of jealousy in the pompous man's eye. Midnight was about to get a sweet taste of revenge.


	23. Chapter 23: Distress

As Tibby's pulled into view, Midnight wretched her arm away from Swifty. People were leaving the building gruffly, glancing disapprovingly behind them. Through the windows, Midnight could make out the darkened shape of the newsies huddled around something. Or someone. Walking into Tibby's made it plain to see that it was most definitely the latter of the two. There was Snipeshooter, tiny boy that he was, laying on the floor covered in blood. Jack was yelling at everyone to calm down, and waiters were buzzing around, carrying towels and buckets of water. Flirt was working hard to bandage up a large dark spot on the boy's arm, and Shrimp was right next to her, dipping the towels in the water and then wringing them out again. Mr. Tibby himself was tending to a gash under Snipe's left eye.

And all around, the newsies were shouting. "I say we go and gut the bastard!" one person cried.

"Burn him alive!" another yelled.

"We can't do that! We don't even know where he disappeared to!" someone reasoned.

Even though distress clearly filled the hearts of everyone around her, Midnight couldn't help but be happy. He was finally back! Her revenge was going to be so sweet, she could already taste the glory she'd feel when Andrew admitted he was wrong.

She was flung from her imaginings by a pair of pale arms flying around her neck. "Midnight! You're okay!" Pink pulled away to look her up and down, to make sure what she said was correct. "We were so worried! When Hammer started talking about you it was obvious that you weren't safe. Oh!" she cried, "I'm so glad Swifty found you!"

Midnight's head was starting to reel from that sudden jolt. She shook her head and grasped firmly onto Pink's shoulders. "Pink. It's imperative I know exactly what happened between Snipeshooter and Hammer," she stated sternly, her green eyes boring into Pink's blue ones.

Pink took a step back, eyeing Midnight suspiciously. Midnight really didn't care anymore about upholding her image. All that mattered was getting rid of Hammer. "Just tell me."

She must have trusted her enough, because Pink took a deep breath and began the story. "Snipeshooter and Itey were just outside trying to sell the last of their papes when Hammer stormed up, demanding to know where you were. Something about," Pink was looking intently at the floor at this point, "about revealing you." Pink looked up at Midnight cautiously.

_Damn it all!_ Midnight slapped her hand to her head. If Pink knew, that was one thing. But Hammer? That would ruin everything; how was she supposed to get any information out of him if he knew she was out to get him? And if she couldn't get Hammer… She could feel her heart drop to her stomach. Biting back the urge to destroy something, she prodded Pink to continue. "What does that have to do with Snipeshooter?"

"Well, Itey told him that even if they knew where you were, they wouldn't tell Hammer. Hammer shoved Itey to the ground and tried kicking him, but Snipe jumped on his back. Somehow, Hammer pulled a knife on him and stabbed his arm. Snipeshooter fell, and Hammer managed a kick at his face before running off." Pink glanced over at the poor boy where he was half-conscious. "He's already lost a lot of blood," she murmured. "I don't know if he has the will to make it."

_Numb. I need to be numb._ Midnight made a start for the door, needing to be alone, but didn't make it very far. Jack stopped her just before she reached the exit, and held onto her arms firmly. "You're not going anywhere. Not with Hammer still out there."

Midnight struggled in his grasp; the need for some alcohol was building inside her. She had felt so at ease that night at Medda's, and she desperately wanted that ease to return. "Let me go!" she cried.

"Damnit Midnight! You're a newsie now whether you like it or not!" Jack spat at her. "And I protect my newsies. End of story." He sat her down in a bench as far away from the door as possible. Midnight gave up. Why fight? Hammer knew her secrets anyway. There was no point in trying to find him.

And there, standing next to the booth, was Skittery. He took a cigarette out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. After lighting it, he offered it to Midnight. "You'll need it. It's going to be a long day."


	24. Chapter 24: Reunion

She sat on the roof, drinking the contents of a bottle of whiskey. There had never been another time or reason to drink. What was she thinking? She couldn't go into this alone. She needed the reassurance that Andrew was behind her, one hundred percent. As much as Midnight didn't like to admit it, she needed Andrew just as much as he needed her.

_What am I thinking? I don't need anyone! _She took another swig of the bottle to drown out her thoughts.

A few minutes later, they began to resurface. Why didn't she just confess to Jack, pack up all her things, and move away? Too many godforsaken things had happened to her in this city. It seamed that at every corner something was there to remind her of the past. Couldn't she just move away and leave it all behind her? That was what she would do. She could just use the rest of her money and get a train ticket to anywhere- it really didn't matter where, as long as it was out of this city- and start a new life. She could do kitchen work maybe, earn enough money to open a pub or something. Settle down with someone. It would be a good life, and there wouldn't be any murders, serial killers, thieves, or newsies at all. She wouldn't have to deal with Jack, Swifty, Pink, Skittery, or Hammer. And even more so- she'd never have to admit to Andrew that she blew it. He would never have to know.

She took a swig of the whiskey. She'd found a stash of three or four bottles in the shed on the roof a few weeks ago, but didn't feel like exhausting it at the time. It was a good thing, too. There had never been a more dire need for it than there was now. The alcohol washed over her like a flood of relief, and she could feel everything going fuzzy in the edges. Sounds were dimming, and her eyelids were drooping… and slowly she was losing consciousness…

Then, Midnight was pulled abruptly out of her revelry. Faint creaking noises were coming to her ears, like someone crawling up the fire escape. _One of the boys?_ She wondered. But who? Jack had required that everyone stayed at the Lodging House, so there shouldn't have been any problem with someone staying out past when Kloppman closed up. She sat up straighter, and patiently waited.

Her heart leapt into her throat. The dark shape of his body jumped over the ledge onto the roof. Midnight sat there, staring at him. She may have appeared calm, but inside she was screaming. It took a while for Hammer to find her in the dark, but when he did, a malicious grin spread across his face.

"I've been looking for you," he sneered.

"So I've heard."

"I know your secret."

"This, too, I've heard," Midnight looked up at him, holding the bottle in her hands. "Now the matter is: What do you know?"

He laughed. "Ho, ho, ho! Aren't we all down-to-business tonight." He began to walk slowly over to her, and Midnight assessed the situation. He had a weapon. Of that much she could be sure. He was steadily advancing, and she sat there, sitting against a three-foot wall separating her from the three-story drop to the street. Her assets: a bottle of whiskey.

Midnight stood up and walked towards him, keeping her head level. This, she hoped would take care of her spatial problems. "Listen, Hammer, I got your calling card. You're looking for me, you know something, and I just want to know if I should be worried about it. Now," she was directly in front of him, looking at him dead in the eye, seemingly fearless. "What do you know?" Inside her, her stomach was churning.

"Tsk, tsk, Midnight. Look," he started for his back pocket, and Midnight tensed up, expecting a gun or something. Instead he pulled out a wad of cash. "How about I pay you for your services? Then will you be a little sweeter to me?"

Midnight stood there staring at the money for a moment until she realized what he was implying. Without thinking, she flung her arm back and clenched her fist. She swung back at him, waiting for that relieving connection of knuckle to jaw. Instead, she felt more of a knuckle to palm connection. Hammer grabbed her arm and flung her around, so he had his arms around her. "Or maybe, you can serve me up a drink down at that tavern you used to bartend at? Hm?" Midnight could feel the cold steel of a knife on her throat. She had been in this position before, and knew what to do. She flung her foot in the general direction of his groin, not caring where it landed, just that she got free.

Unfortunately, he caught her endeavor once more, and pushed her down to the floor. Thoughts raced through her mind. Why was she losing to him? Sure, Hammer could rape and kill all those other girls, but those other girls didn't have the field experience she did. And how did he know about her tavern job? She finished up that case almost two years ago, she only known Hammer for a few months…

And then it occurred to her. _Rape and kill._ Hammer intended to rape her. Not just your run-of-the-mill kill, but a rape. Her body broke down and went into shock after she realized that she was about to be raped.

Sure enough, he straddled her and cut open her shirt, grazing her skin with the knife. "It'll be a little hard to track me after I kill you, won't it?" Midnight squirmed under him. "Shh," he whispered as he ran the flat side of the blade along her cheek, "If you perform for me, you'll live longer. But not much longer," he added.

Midnight turned her head to look at him. "How?" Her voice was raspy and cracked, so he didn't hear her as he worked his knife and his tongue around her. She cleared her throat and tried again. "How do you know that about me?"

Hammer sat up and looked at her. "I've been watching you. For years, I've been waiting for this moment. I've been tracking you while you've been tracking everyone else under the sun. You see, I killed the girls to get your attention. To get you to find me, so I could exact my revenge on you. I want justice- I want you dead, Midnight." His eyes were flaming with hatred rather than pleasure. "Or should I call you by your real name? Hm, Brittany?"

She was floored. Who was he? No one knew her first name, aside from Andrew. She squinted to see him through the dark, until it came to her.

"Max," she breathed. "Max Studebaker."

"At your service, bitch."

Her body went limp with the realization. How had she never seen him before? Of course, she had seen him, but she saw them all. She always assumed it was another figment of her past coming back to poke her. She hadn't been imagining it ever. He had really been there. The time on the ferry? Not just another passenger. The son of her former employer had been following her ever since she ran away from him and his family.

She lay there, in her own world reliving all the moments she had seen him until something inside her sparked. _Fight_, it said. _Fight_. She snapped back into focus, and found herself stark naked, as Max worked on the belt to his pants. Seizing her moment, she slammed her fists into his ribcage, knocking the air out of him and causing him to drop the knife.

Nothing fancy, no tricks. Her hatred welled up as she picked the knife up and stabbed his heart.

She pushed the body off of her, and stood. The world started to spin, and she grabbed the short wall for balance. Her stomach retched, and she puked the alcohol out of her system and onto the street below. Moments later, she passed out.


	25. Chapter 25: Brittany IX

Another blanket, another cup of coffee. It seamed to be her routine after finishing a case. She watched as they carted the body bag off, and she watched as the various newsies were huddled around the place. She took a sip of her coffee and glanced over to where Pink was snuggled into Blink's shoulder, obviously bothered by the sight of a dead body. Pink had been the one to find Midnight, fainted next to a bloody body with a knife sticking out of its chest. It must have been tough for her. Usually, when Midnight fainted, she woke up quickly, before anyone could find her or see that she'd really fainted. Unfortunately, she hadn't this time.

That was the other thing that always seamed to happen to Midnight. She'd finish a big case, and the adrenaline would be too much, and she'd faint. It was quite the 'damsel-in-distress' thing to do, and it angered her. She was no distressed damsel. Now someone out there had seen her be weak.

Just one more reason to leave.

She was resolved then. Leave. It seamed to be her only option. She'd always wanted to, and now felt right. Midnight sighed, and put her foot forward to step off of the curb she was standing on when suddenly, from behind her, she heard a voice.

"Try to go easy on me," someone muttered with a smile.

Midnight closed her eyes and put her foot back on the curb. "Andrew," she whispered.

"Please, don't gloat too much. I don't think I could handle it," he said as she turned to look at him. Her face wasn't even half as warm and friendly as his was. He noticed this, and his smile began to droop. "Hey, what's the problem, Kid? You got rid of the bad guy. Why no smiles?"

"I knew him, Andrew. I worked for his family when I was little. I- I can't take this lightly."

He reached out to her, his fingers grazing her elbow. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. If there's anything I-"

Midnight turned to face him head-on. "I can't do this anymore." She was still holding her coffee.

"Can't do what?" Andrew drew back his hand.

"Everything, Andrew. Detective work, New York, cases, hiding, risking my life. You. Me. I can't do it. I'm done." Pinpricks of tears poked the corners of her eyes. She quickly blinked them away.

Andrew cleared his throat. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"My mother has a brother in Pennsylvania. I think. I guess I'll head out that way, and hope I find someone."

"So. Is that it then? Are you going to stop by the office and pick up your pay?"

"I wasn't working for you this time. Keep the money." Midnight grinned. "The last time I stopped in it didn't go so well." Andrew snorted.

"Yeah, that was a fun one to explain to Miss Williams."

"Sorry about that."

They stood there for a beat or two, staring at their shoes before either said anything. It was Andrew who said anything. "So this is goodbye then?"

"I guess," Midnight told her, feeling a small lump growing in her throat.

Andrew reached out and put his arms around her. Midnight laid her head on his chest, enjoying his warmth. Things might have turned out differently between them under other circumstances. But there was no use worrying about it now. They would never be what they could have been.

"Happy Birthday, by the way," he muttered into her hair. Midnight's heart skipped a beat. She had completely forgotten, but yes, as a few minutes ago, she had turned eighteen. It was one more unhappy birthday, just like so many others.

Andrew kissed the top of her head before pulling away. "Alright then. Goodbye, Midnight."

"Goodbye, Andrew." She stood there and watched as he walked away. Midnight sighed, letting go of that part of her life.

She turned her head to look up at the lodging house, and suddenly had this peculiar sensation that she was being watched. She looked around, and standing there, staring point blank at her, was Skittery. In the instant that their eyes met, Midnight knew he had seen everything that had just unfolded between her and Andrew. Surprisingly enough, she felt an uneasy calm at the knowledge. She stood there, clutching her cold coffee cup, staring back at him, until Abigail came running down the sidewalk towards them. Skittery broke the stare, and Midnight turned towards the street again.

She set down her cup on the sidewalk and held the blanket closer around her, and started walking across the street, into the alley. She was gone before Skittery could turn back to look at her.

-End Part One-


	26. Chapter 26: Finished

Another blanket, another cup of coffee. It seamed to be her routine after finishing a case. She watched as they carted the body bag off, and she watched as the various newsies were huddled around the place. She took a sip of her coffee and glanced over to where Pink was snuggled into Blink's shoulder, obviously bothered by the sight of a dead body. Pink had been the one to find Midnight, fainted next to a bloody body with a knife sticking out of its chest. It must have been tough for her. Usually, when Midnight fainted, she woke up quickly, before anyone could find her or see that she'd really fainted. Unfortunately, she hadn't this time.

That was the other thing that always seamed to happen to Midnight. She'd finish a big case, and the adrenaline would be too much, and she'd faint. It was quite the 'damsel-in-distress' thing to do, and it angered her. She was no distressed damsel. Now someone out there had seen her be weak.

Just one more reason to leave.

She was resolved then. Leave. It seamed to be her only option. She'd always wanted to, and now felt right. Midnight sighed, and put her foot forward to step off of the curb she was standing on when suddenly, from behind her, she heard a voice.

"Try to go easy on me," someone muttered with a smile.

Midnight closed her eyes and put her foot back on the curb. "Andrew," she whispered.

"Please, don't gloat too much. I don't think I could handle it," he said as she turned to look at him. Her face wasn't even half as warm and friendly as his was. He noticed this, and his smile began to droop. "Hey, what's the problem, Kid? You got rid of the bad guy. Why no smiles?"

"I knew him, Andrew. I worked for his family when I was little. I- I can't take this lightly."

He reached out to her, his fingers grazing her elbow. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. If there's anything I-"

Midnight turned to face him head-on. "I can't do this anymore." She was still holding her coffee.

"Can't do what?" Andrew drew back his hand.

"Everything, Andrew. Detective work, New York, cases, hiding, risking my life. You. Me. I can't do it. I'm done." Pinpricks of tears poked the corners of her eyes. She quickly blinked them away.

Andrew cleared his throat. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"My mother has a brother in Pennsylvania. I think. I guess I'll head out that way, and hope I find someone."

"So. Is that it then? Are you going to stop by the office and pick up your pay?"

"I wasn't working for you this time. Keep the money." Midnight grinned. "The last time I stopped in it didn't go so well." Andrew snorted.

"Yeah, that was a fun one to explain to Miss Williams."

"Sorry about that."

They stood there for a beat or two, staring at their shoes before either said anything. It was Andrew who said anything. "So this is goodbye then?"

"I guess," Midnight told her, feeling a small lump growing in her throat.

Andrew reached out and put his arms around her. Midnight laid her head on his chest, enjoying his warmth. Things might have turned out differently between them under other circumstances. But there was no use worrying about it now. They would never be what they could have been.

"Happy Birthday, by the way," he muttered into her hair. Midnight's heart skipped a beat. She had completely forgotten, but yes, as a few minutes ago, she had turned eighteen. It was one more unhappy birthday, just like so many others.

Andrew kissed the top of her head before pulling away. "Alright then. Goodbye, Midnight."

"Goodbye, Andrew." She stood there and watched as he walked away. Midnight sighed, letting go of that part of her life.

She turned her head to look up at the lodging house, and suddenly had this peculiar sensation that she was being watched. She looked around, and standing there, staring point blank at her, was Skittery. In the instant that their eyes met, Midnight knew he had seen everything that had just unfolded between her and Andrew. Surprisingly enough, she felt an uneasy calm at the knowledge. She stood there, clutching her cold coffee cup, staring back at him, until Abigail came running down the sidewalk towards them. Skittery broke the stare, and Midnight turned towards the street again.

She set down her cup on the sidewalk and held the blanket closer around her, and started walking across the street, into the alley. She was gone before Skittery could turn back to look at her.

-End Part One-


	27. Chapter 27: A Time for Departure

-Part Two-

The train ticket was becoming quite disheveled. Three times now, she had crumpled it up, threw in the mud and walked away. And three times, she had gone back to the ticket, wiped it off, and smoothed it out against the bench she was sitting on. This had to stop. "I'm going, and that's final," she whispered to herself. Being indecisive was unlike her, and she hated it in other people. She snuggled deeper into her coat; it was going to be a cold Christmas in New York.

Midnight set her bag down on the bench next to her. There wasn't much in it. Just a small vile of ashes, some scraps of clothing, half a loaf of bread, and some cash. Just enough for her to get to Pennsylvania with. She checked the clock on the wall behind her; she had ten minutes until the train was set to arrive.

_I'm going to do this_, she thought to herself. _I'm going to start anew. _

Just as she was thinking this, a voice from behind startled her. "Were you ever going to tell us?" Midnight turned around to find the infamous Jack Kelly leaning against the wall. Why hadn't she seen him there?

"How much did Andrew tell you guys?" she asked point blank.

Jack reached into his back pocket for a cigarette, put it in his mouth and lit it. "He told us enough," he told her through a puff of smoke. He held out his cigarette to Midnight, who took a drag of it and handed it back. "So, I repeat: were you going to tell us?"

"Would you have told me if you were in my place?"

Jack looked at her for a moment, in the same manner that he did that first day in Tibby's. He broke the awkward silence with a smile, and sat down on the bench next to her. "Probably not. But you could have told me. I mean, that way you wouldn't have had to stay in the Lodging House for months waiting for Hammer to come back." He paused again for the cigarette. "How'd you start to do all that anyway?"

Midnight looked at the ticket in her hand. One-thirty in the afternoon, one way ticket to Pennsylvania. She really couldn't get into this now, her train was going to be here in seven minutes. But with Jack, one doesn't not answer, so she simply said, "He got me out of a thick spot, and so I helped him out of a few in return."

But Jack wasn't going to let her leave it at that. "What kind of thick spot?" When Midnight shot him a look, he shrugged. "Take your time. I can wait." He leaned back and took in another drag.

Midnight bit her upper lip. This really was getting her nowhere. She was supposed to be thinking about a new her, and not thinking about the old her. "I was in and out of the refuge, and instead of sending me back, he offered me a job," she said, hoping that would end the conversation.

Once again, Jack wasn't catching her hints. "Really? You roomed with ol' Snyder too? How long ago?"

"Off and on from summer of '92 to fall of '93."

Jack chocked on his cigarette and sat up straight and looked at her incredulously. Midnight waited for him to say something, but when he didn't, she broke the silence. "What?" She was at about four minutes now, and didn't need to wait for him to talk.

Jack threw his cigarette, landing it in the track bed. "Well, I'll be damned. You're Girl."

Girl. Not a girl. Just plain Girl. Midnight felt her ribs tighten, and her grip in her ticket loosened. All those years ago, the game of Two Truths, One Lie, with Red, the other boys, and Wise-Ass. Wise-Ass, the boy who wore the cowboy hat, was so sure of himself, and went by the name of Cowboy. Midnight looked at Jack, and sure enough, there was that same cowboy hat, hanging around his neck behind him. God, it was all right in front of her, but she never took the time to notice it. The newsies even called him Cowboy, and she never cared enough to remember.

"Oh, god. You're Wise-Ass."

Jack laughed, suddenly friendlier than he had ever been to her in the lodging house. "No one ever called me that but you. God, that was so long ago! All the other guys and then it there was you, just the guys and Girl. When you got out, I started to plan my own escape. I rode out on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage, did anyone ever tell you that?" He was beaming.

Two minutes left. "Uh, yeah. They told me about that. I got sent back once before I left for good."

"Hey, do you remember Red? That kid had a whit- he was great. Did Red ever get out?"

Midnight shut her eyes tightly. This was not the subject she wanted to talk about. Her eyelids started to get hot as she grabbed her bag and started rummaging through it. "Yeah, he got in the way, so I made him leave with me. But uh," she pulled out a glass vile, about the size of her pinky finger, and showed it to Jack. "He didn't make it too long in the cold weather."

Jack's brow furrowed for a moment before he understood. "Oh." He took the vile, and turned it over in his hands. Midnight could hear the train coming.

"After he died, I turned myself in. That's when Andrew offered me the job." She rubbed her eyes to get rid of the thoughts. "But, uh, that's my train, so I better get going." She took the vile from him and stuffed it in her bag.

They both stood and looked at each other, a sudden understanding passing between the two of them. Midnight stuck her hand out and said, "Have a good life, Wise-Ass." Jack didn't break his gaze with her, but spit into his hand and clapped it to hers. "You too, Girl." The train was pulled up and already loading passengers. Midnight smiled slightly and turned towards the train.

She had already handed her ticket to the man before Jack ran up behind her, calling her name. "Midnight, come back to the lodging house. It's Christmas. You can't spend Christmas on a train."

"And why can't I?" she asked, starting to get quite annoyed.

"Well," he said, shrugging and starting to stumble in that way that only Jack could accomplish while sounding confident. "First of all, the food is hell, and second, there's no family on a train. And what's Christmas without family?"

"I don't have any family anywhere else."

Jack didn't say anything, but he raised an eyebrow and that said enough. Midnight stood there trying to read his expression while the man checking the tickets asked if she was going to be boarding or not.

"Fine," she said to Jack. "I'll come. But only for a little while."

"Does this mean you won't be boarding?" the ticket man asked her annoyingly.

Midnight turned to him and smiled an icy smile. "No, I will not be boarding, thank you very much." The man scowled and turned away from them.

Jack smiled knowingly at her. "Come on. Kloppman's got a turkey going for us. Specially sent to us from Mister Pulitzer himself." With that, the two of them turned and started walking, a steady comfortable silence falling in between the two of them.


	28. Chapter 28: Welcome

The Lodging House never looked so welcoming. Just the sight of it from a block away suddenly eased all of Midnight's nerves. Things only got better once she got inside.

At first, everything seamed to be empty. Everyone would, presumably, be out selling. Papes had to be sold, even on Christmas Day. But that wasn't the case after all. Pink walked down the stairs, fixated with the dirt under her nails, and got to the bottom step before she looked up and saw Midnight standing at the door with Jack right behind her.

"Midnight!" she squealed. Pink turned up towards the upper level and yelled even loader, "Guys! She's back!" Midnight hardly knew what was going on and then Pink had her arms around her neck. Soon there after, a crusade of newsies came down the steps, all clambering to see this girl who had been living with them for months. In their eyes, she was a brand new person. She wasn't the Midnight they knew, but she was a spy, an agent. An agent who had disappeared suddenly, making her a very interesting person.

Fragments of questions popped out at her. Things like where she went, who she was, what being undercover is like. She stood there in a confused state. Although they were asking very personal and accusatory questions, they were all beaming happily. Why didn't they hate her? She lied. She wasn't the person she told them she was, and that alone was usually enough to make people disgusted with her.

Then she noticed that the group was making room for someone to get to the center. Suddenly, a familiar face belonging to one oriental boy popped out in front of her. Midnight and Swifty stood where they were for a moment, not knowing what to say. Neither had to say anything; Swifty reached up and hugged her.

"Wait," she said, stopping mid-hug. "Don't you hate me?"

Swifty pulled away. "Why would I?" he asked, smiling slightly.

Midnight was uncomfortable with his smile. "I lied. I told you I was someone who I wasn't, and I put your lives in danger."

He smiled broadly. "Midnight, I don't know who you are, but I'm willing to find out. I forgive you," he said. He gestured to the newsies behind him. "We forgive you."

The newsies around them started clapping loudly, a few of them whooping for Midnight's return. Swifty put his arm around her shoulders, acting just like the older brother she had always thought an older brother should be. Jack wasn't kidding. They were family.

Her momentary happiness was shattered suddenly when a single voice erupted over the group. "You've got to be kidding me!" it cried. Everyone turned to face the source of the sound. Sure enough, standing at the stairs was Skittery, looking positively livid. "She's a murderer, and you're all going to let her back in without any second thoughts about it! I can't believe it."

He started storming towards her, and the group of newsies all took a step back to let him through. "You stay away from us," he told her, shaking a finger in front of her. He was furious with everyone, but most of all, he was furious with her. "Go a-"

Jack jumped between them, cutting Skittery off. "That's enough, Skittery."

He was somewhat taken back by Jack's defending her. "Look, Cowboy, either she stays or I stay." He stood up to his full height, staring eye to eye with his leader. "What's it going to be?"

Jack glared back at him. "She stays, whether you do or not."

Skittery looked as though he was going to hit him, but instead he shoved past them all and headed out the door.

An uneasy silence spread through the crowd. Midnight was uncomfortable with the whole situation. Swifty put a hand on her shoulder and told her quietly, "He'll be back, don't worry."

And a day later, Skittery did come back. He wasn't happy though, and he refused to look, talk, or even be in the same room as Midnight. Things were going to be rough.


	29. Chapter 29: Fireworks

"So you got a New Year's resolution, Midnight?"

Midnight glanced across the room to see a bitter Skittery reluctantly listening to his girlfriend talk. "Yeah, I got a few. Hit me," she replied. It was New Year's Eve, and while most of the newsies were sitting around chatting, Midnight, Race, Swifty and a few others had gotten a game of blackjack going.

"Do any of them include getting rid of more bad guys?" Racetrack smirked. The rest of the boys laughed.

"That'll depend," she told them. "I raise five cents."

"I'm out," Swifty said, laying out his cards to reveal a hand of twenty-three. Others bailed out as well, but Racetrack, the resident gambler, continued. He raised the bet by two cents.

"I see your bet, and I raise you three." Midnight was pushing Racetrack, and who held a blank expression. The bet was only at twelve cents, but that was enough to get you twenty-four papes, and therefore make twenty-four cents.

From the corner of her eye, Midnight could see Skittery crawling out the window, fiddling with his cigarette box. Abigail was busy chatting with Mia, Mush's girl, and didn't seam to mind that Skittery was leaving for a smoke. He was probably headed for the roof. If she could get up there to talk to him, maybe…

"Fine. I'm out," Racetrack told her, pulling out of her thoughts. "I have a seventeen. What about you?"

Midnight pocketed her change. "Twenty-five." She had bluffed him out, and was content with her winnings. "I'm done. I'm gunna run upstairs and put this with my stuff." She shook her pocket to show what she meant by 'this'. The newsies grumbled incoherently, Racetrack grumbling louder than the others.

When she got up to the attic, she did like she said she would. She put her change in her drawer, but instead of going back downstairs, Midnight crawled through her window onto the fire escape, and climbed up.

She saw him before he heard her. She jumped over the short wall onto the rooftop. He turned around to face her. It was near midnight, but the city was awake, and they didn't need any more light to see each other. "Do you make it your habit to attack people on roofs?" he spat at her, barely audible, but slicing enough to hit Midnight's ears.

"What do you have against me?" Midnight asked him.

"You're a murderer." He turned away from her, and took a drag of his cigarette while he looked down at the people on the street below.

"Listen," she said, storming over to him, she grabbed his shoulder and turned him around violently so he was facing her. "You don't know me. You weren't up here with me. You have no fucking right to tell me I'm a murderer. Hammer wanted me dead, and I had to kill or be killed. What would you have done? Let him off you and go on his merry way to rape and kill your precious Abigail? You better shut the hell up, or his blood wont be the only blood spilt on this rooftop."

"Don't bring Abigail into this. She has nothing to do with it," he told her, shaking with rage.

"Oh, I think she does, Skittery. You just made that much clear. What does Abigail have to do with this?"

Skittery turned away from her, and looked back out at the street. His jaw was tight, and his fists were clenched. "Leave me alone. I don't want you near me."

"You know, you keep saying that, but I can't figure out just why. And you want to know what, Skittery? I don't think it has anything to do with Hammer. I think you're just saying that so you have a reason to hate me. So what is it? Why the hell can't you be around me?" She was pushing his buttons, and his anger was clearly building at fast rates.

"You want to know why I can't be around you, Midnight?" he exploded at her. "Because I'm afraid. I'm petrified by what could happen if I'm around you. I'm scared that I'll do something stupid and ruin everything. I don't want to know what kind of mistakes I'd make if I allowed myself to be around you too much. God," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm so goddamn afraid of what I feel when you're near me."

It took a moment for Midnight to process the information. When it hit, she began to feel her anger diminishing in a confused state, and her brain clouded. She took a tentative step forward. "Feel what?" she asked softly, looking directly into his eyes.

"God, Midnight. I don't know. I get angry, and I get stiff and bitter." He was locking her gaze within his. "I know I want to block you out completely so that I don't have to get defensive about you with Abigail. But at the same time, there's more there than just hate." His feet seamed to bring him closer to her without his knowing it, and Midnight could feel his fingers grazing her arms. "Every time you're in the room, I feel an intense desire to…"

He closed the distance between them, and softly pressed his lips to hers. It surprised her at first, but Midnight felt her own hunger building and eased into him. He took the next step, and let that long awaited desire billow out. From below them, she could hear their friends counting down to midnight, and then in the distance, fireworks were flashing. She let her brain clear of everything, of New Years, of her friends, of the newsies, of Abigail, and focused in on his embrace.

Then, the same thought seamed to hit both of them at the same time. _Abigail_. They pulled away from each other, a small smacking noise popping from their sudden moves. Feeling as though she had the wind knocked out of her, Midnight breathed heavily. She looked up at Skittery, who had lost all softness in his face, and was back to the usual furious Skittery that he was.

"It never happened," he told her before he went over to the fire escape and went down.

He was wrong. Something did happen, but Midnight couldn't quite figure out exactly what it was. She sat down and gave everything time to sink in. Skittery was right after all, she decided. Being near each other obviously wasn't a good thing.


	30. Chapter 30: Secrets

Another morning in another century. It was cold in New York this winter, and Midnight pulled the sleeves of her thin sweater over her ink-stained fingers to keep the chill out. It had been three weeks since her episode with Skittery, and she hadn't seen him since. Midnight went out of her way to stay out of his; she came home late, she was sure to sell far away from his usual selling spots, and she stopped showing up at Tibby's. He had been right- seeing each other could only lead to bad things.

But today, it was too cold and too icy for her to cross the river to sell her papes. She had no choice but to sell her papers within Skittery's usual territory. What were the chances they would meet? Even so, Midnight made sure to skirt the outer regions of the area.

"Two Year Old Boy Falls Through Ice! Mayor Asks for Everyone to Stay Inside Today!" The headlines were good, and people were rushing outside to read that they should go back inside. It was enough to make Midnight laugh. The people were so fickle.

"City-Wide Crisis! Businesses Close To Stay Warm!" someone behind her yelled from down the street. She looked over to see another newsie hawkin' the headlines, and so close to her spot too! The mothers and fathers of the neighborhood rushed over to the other kid to get a pape from him.

She had to react quickly if she wanted to sell the rest of her papers. "Winds Pick Up Man and Drop Him Over the Brooklyn Bridge! Read All About It!" People began rushing over to Midnight with their pennies.

It wasn't long before she heard another cry from down the street. "People Drop Like Flies Because of Cold!" Midnight couldn't see the other newsie for the crowd that had formed around him.

She sighed and raised one of her papers high above her head and cried, "State Prison Emptied Because of Cold! Criminals Roam the Streets!" The other newsie's buyers dispersed and a new group crowded around Midnight.

A confused man paged through the newspaper that Midnight had just sold him. "Where's that story?" he asked her accusingly.

"Page Eight," she said to him, selling her last paper.

The man fumbled to the page and looked up at her. "'Prisoners Relocated to Higher Security Penitentiary?'" Midnight shrugged her shoulders and walked off, tucking a stray hair up under her hat.

Then, an arm shot out at her from the alley she was walking by, pulling her in and slamming her up against the wall. Her head pummeled against the bricks, causing her vision to cloud. She closed her eyes to try and bring it back.

"This is my spot, okay Buddy?" her captor cried. It was obviously the other newsie. "Give me the money you stole from me," he shook her, as though the harder he shook, the more money would shake from her pockets.

Midnight opened her eyes to look at the boy, but before the clouds lifted, she was dropped to the ground. "Oh. It's you." She squinted her eyes to get a better look, and sure enough, it was Skittery.

"Christ, Skittery. What the hell was that for?" she pulled herself up, rubbing her head.

He stuck a cigarette in his mouth and turned away from her to light it. Once lit, he turned back and took a drag of it. "You were at my selling spot," he told her through his cigarette smoke. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was selling my papes."

He turned down the alley and started to wander slightly. "I thought I told you to leave me alone," he hissed at her, barely audible.

"What would you have me do, Skittery? Not sell at all and starve to death?" Midnight stood grounded and faced him.

"You didn't have to sell around here," he cried in hushed tones; he was obviously trying to keep a lid on his temper. He threw his cigarette on the ground and covered it with his toe.

"Well, neither did you."

He turned and lashed out at her. "Why don't you just leave?!" he cried, steadily advancing towards her. "Leave town completely! I was doing just fine before you showed up here, thank you very much, and I would do much better if you would just disappear!"

"I'm not going anywhere, Skittery! I have just as much of a right to live here as you do and if you can't handle that then you can just deal!" Midnight spat out at him.

He started to say something and then thought better. He took a few steps back and leaned against the opposite wall. Midnight crossed her arms and put her hands under her armpits to warm them up. She looked out at the people walking through the streets as she felt Skittery's icy gaze studying her.

They stood there for a few minutes with just the silence between them. The anger had died, and now they stood there, not knowing exactly what to say to the other, and yet, unable to leave.

"You're cold," Skittery stated.

Midnight snorted rudely. "It is winter. Of course I'm cold."

"Here," he said, sliding his jacket off of his shoulders and walking over to her. "Have this." He held it open for her to put her arms in.

Midnight looked at him hesitantly, wondering where this courtesy had come from. She turned around and put her arms through the long sleeves, hoisting it up onto her shoulders. She held on to the cuffs with her fingers, and brought them up to her face to warm it up also.

Turning around to thank him, Midnight found herself face to face with the boy whose coat she was wearing. The words got caught in her throat as she looked up at him. He seamed to be looking at her mouth, and she watched his come slowly closer, her head jerking back and going forward on its own, as though it wasn't sure what to do.

With about an inch left between them, Midnight closed her eyes. She felt a hand brush up and take her hat off of her head, causing her hair fall to her shoulders. That same hand entwined itself in her hair and pulled her head up to meet his.

She felt herself screaming inside. This time, every consequence possible came to mind, and she knew the dangers of this kiss, but this time, she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

Her back hit the wall behind her with force, but that didn't stop them. Skittery left her mouth and ran his lips along Midnight's neck, sending shocks down her spine. Everything about this felt wrong, but so right.

Skittery found her mouth once again before pulling away. They were both breathing heavily. Both of them felt it; the point of no return had been breached.

"What do we do now?" she asked him quietly.

"There's nothing we can do," he told her, taking her chin in his hand. "Meet me here tomorrow after you're done selling your papes."

"But what about Abigail?"

Skittery placed a gentle kiss on Midnight's lips. "What Abigail doesn't know can't kill her." And with that, he walked away, leaving Midnight stunned.


	31. Chapter 31: Plans

"Hey, Midnight!"

She opened the door to Tibby's, hit suddenly with the aroma of sauerkraut and beef that she had come to associate with the place. Some newsies were at their usual booth, but it wasn't too crowded.

"Hi, guys." Midnight slid into the booth and sat down next to Pink, seated directly across from Skittery. She looked up at him, and caught his eye. An unspoken understanding passed between them; for the past month, they had been meeting almost everyday in various spots, but Skittery still insisted that nothing between them could appear to be different. It was starting to eat away at Midnight, but she'd kept secrets for longer than this before.

"How was selling for everyone?" Midnight asked. She was met with general grumbles of discontent. She laughed and ordered a glass of water from a passing waiter.

Pink turned to Midnight. "So, Blink and I were thinking-" she started, before Blink interjected to say that he had nothing to do with it. "Okay, so I was thinking. Midnight, you haven't been quite social enough. You've been with us for a while now, and I know you tried going to Medda's with us that one night, but other than that, you haven't done much besides be by yourself all the time."

"Well, I think I had sufficient reason to stay by myself for most of my time here…" Midnight protested.

"Yeah, but still. After you came back at Christmas, you've been even more elusive that ever. I mean, we never see you selling, and you never talk about yourself. No one knows what you do." It was hard to tell, but Midnight could have sworn she felt a small kick to her foot from across the table at this comment, but she ignored it.

She accepted her water from the waiter, and turned back to her friend. "So what do you propose I do? I'm not going back to Medda's, no matter what you do."

Pink sat up straight and smiled, preparing to pitch her biggest idea yet, and delivered. "I'm going to throw you a party," she grinned.

Midnight's jaw dropped. "A what?"

"I promise, it would be fun! And it doesn't have to be about you, we can lie and say it was for, God, I don't know. We can pretend its Blink's birthday or something." She leaned forward and placed her hands over Midnight's, starting to beg. "Please. I need to do this for you."

"Come on, Midnight. She's practically got the whole thing planned already, and I could really use the presents," Blink joked across his girlfriend's shoulder.

"No," Midnight said firmly.

"Midnight, it could be fun!" Swifty encouraged.

"No, I don't want a party, you guys." Soon Jack and Racetrack joined in on the encouragement, and all began talking at once, none louder than Pink herself.

During the commotion, Midnight felt that same small kick from under the table, and she looked up at Skittery. "Do it," he told her quietly, so no one heard him.

_Do it?_ she thought incredulously. He was the reason she was refusing in the first place. For where there was a party, there was sure to be Abigail. Why throw a party, only to see him with her and be reminded, yet again, how far away from her grasp he really was? _But if he wants me to do it…_

"Fine," she told them.

"Yes!" Pink cried, squeezing her hand. "You won't regret it, I promise…"


	32. Chapter 32: Trust

Midnight flipped through her book. She was lying on her stomach on her bed, reading a book of Shakespearean love sonnets that she borrowed from Flirt. It was rather depressing; today was Valentine's Day. No one was in the Attic with her. Everyone went to Medda's, and like usual she stayed at the Lodging House.

She became acutely aware of another person's presence in the room, and looked up to find Skittery leaning against the doorframe, looking at her quietly.

"How long have you been standing there?" she asked him.

"Not long," he told her, walking over and sitting down next to her. "What are you reading?"

Snorting, she told him. "Love sonnets."

"That's appropriate." He tucked a clump of hair behind her ear.

Midnight shifted to her side and put her head in her hand. "Where's Abigail?" she questioned.

"I'm meeting her at Medda's."

"Do you love her?" she asked him bitterly.

"Midnight," he groaned, rubbing his face with his hands.

"What?" she pushed him, sitting up. "It's Valentine's Day, you should be with the one that you love."

"Don't go there."

"I'm just saying, I mean-"

"Well, do I have a choice? Do you really want to deal with her wrath if she found out I was with you instead? She hates you enough already, no need to give her actual reason."

He stood up, and Midnight put her feet down on the floor, still sitting on the bed. He reached into his pocket, retrieved what he had been looking for, and then kneeled down in front of her, putting himself at eye level with her.

"Listen, it's not much, I know, but I got you something. I want you to know that I do care about you, and I'll be thinking about you tonight." He pulled out a small silver heart shaped locket and showed it to her. Midnight lifted up her hair and he fastened the clasp.

"Thank you," she told him, fingering the trinket. "I'm sorry about the Abigail thing, it just- it gets to me sometimes…"

"It's okay," he told her, kissing her lightly before he left the room.

Midnight played with the simple necklace, silently wondering what Skittery bought for Abigail. No doubt it was something extravagant. She would expect nothing less. The necklace was nice, but it couldn't stop Midnight from feeling like she really was the other woman.

Needing a cigarette suddenly, she crawled up the fire escape to the roof, where she found Swifty writing in a small notebook. "Hey, Swift." She lit her cigarette and turned back to her friend. "Why aren't you at Medda's?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "No real reason, I guess. I just didn't feel like it. Besides, I had other things to do."

"Like what?"

"Like writing this letter."

Midnight took a drag from her cigarette and sat on the wall ledge next to Swifty. "A letter to Elizabeth?" she asked plainly.

He set down his notebook and looked at her. "How do you know about her?" he asked.

"Pink." He seamed to understand.

"It's really hard, ya know? Her parents are trying to get her to marry this other guy, because they still refuse to believe that she and I are married. They're trying to cover up the fact that she has a baby."

"That's got to be rough," Midnight told him.

"I mean, she claims she doesn't love him, but I don't know. She's so distant in her letters. She hardly ever mentions our daughter anymore, and instead talks about the plans for the wedding. I hate knowing that there's someone else in her life, and there's nothing I can do to prevent that."

Midnight just nodded and let what he just said sink in. _I don't think I could have said it any better myself_.

"I mean," he continued, "I guess I don't expect you to know exactly what I'm talking about. It's sort of an uncommon experience." He turned back to his notebook.

They sat there like that, both in deep thought for a few minutes. Midnight wanted to tell him so badly. He was her best friend, more so than Pink. Swifty was like a brother to her; he'd understand, right? And he could keep a secret- he'd kept Elizabeth under pretty good wraps, didn't he?

She needed to tell him, she decided. She'd go crazy if she didn't. She stamped out her cigarette and stood.

"Swift, can I tell you something?…" 


	33. Chapter 33: Confessions

"Skits, can I tell you something?…"

They were back in their alley, doing the same things that they always did. Midnight would have preferred to have gone somewhere warm for lunch instead of making out in a dark alley, but Skittery was too worried that someone would see them and rat him out. No borough was safe; newsies everywhere knew about Skittery and Abigail.

But she had learned to settle. She only bought enough papers that she could easily sell in the morning, and then spent her afternoons in an alley with Skittery. Midnight reasoned that even though she couldn't have all of him, she could settle to have only a part of him. It was something, wasn't it?

Only, it had become redundant. The luster of their secret affairs had worn off, and Midnight was sick of settling. The old Midnight wouldn't have settled. She'd have kicked and fought her way to get what she wanted. This new Midnight was making compromises all over the place. She hated the way she'd changed herself, and she fully intended to regain her former identity. She wasn't about to wallow in the shadows about something as stupid as this boy; she was either going to make it known or she was going to leave him alone.

Which was why she felt she had to tell Swifty about them. Which was why she felt she had to tell Skittery that she told Swifty about them.

"Wha?" Skittery muttered, his hand on the bare skin of the small of her back.

"Skittery, Swifty knows." _There,_ she thought. _ I said it. _

Immediately, he pulled his hand away from her back, and pulled back to look at her. She could see his anger rising in his eyes. He blinked at her for a few moments, before asking, "How?" accusingly.

She stared back into his eyes, feeling her own defenses rising. "I told him," she stated.

Skittery stood up slowly, and though he appeared calm, it was obvious that he wouldn't stay that way for long. He turned away from her, his fists clenched. "Why would you do a thing like that?"

"They need to know sometime, Skittery."

Then, before she knew it, he had picked up an empty bottle and hurled it at the brick wall, hitting about seven feet to her left and shattering the glass. Midnight cried out, startled by his sudden movements.

"They never needed to know, Midnight," he said, shaking with rage.

Midnight stood up quickly, feeling her own stubborn self coming back to her. "What? Did you really think I'd settle with being on the sidelines forever? Skittery, I'm done settling, for you or for anyone. I've changed who I am to fit you, and I'm done with it."

He turned around to face her suddenly. "You had the chance to leave, you knew that! Why the hell didn't you?!"

"I don't know! Maybe because I thought that there was something worth staying for."

"Well, was it?! Was what you fucking stayed for all that great?"

Feeling her facial muscles tense and her eyes narrow, Midnight allowed her anger to simmer to a boiling point under her skin. "Depends," she said, voice icy cold. "Do you love her?"

"Would I be this upset if I didn't?!" he cried.

"Would you have ever been with me if you did?" she slowly asked, using that built up anger not towards being louder than him, but to hit Skittery harder than he could have imagined.

It worked. His jaw dropped, and he was startled by her slicing remark. He only showed his surprise for a moment before closing his mouth shut again. "Leave me alone," he told her through clenched teeth.

Midnight picked up her left over papes and walked out of the alley. For once, she was the one leaving the other standing behind in a confused mess.


	34. Chapter 34: Lessons

Yes, it was safe to assume that things between Skittery and Midnight were over. All in all, they had only lasted for a little over a month, but all the same, it was hard for Midnight to stomach. She had foolishly convinced herself that he would love her over Abigail, but that obviously turned out badly for her.

Things weren't even like they were before their 'affair.' Then, he stayed away, and was purposely cold and rigid towards her. Now, she saw him all the time. He wasn't the cold person he was before; now, he acted loverly towards Abigail. Whereas their relationship had seamed twisted and petty before, it now seamed as though they were truly in love.

Which was truly sickening, of course.

But the sick thing was, he spoke to her civilly suddenly. Skittery treated Midnight like an acquaintance, and nodded a polite hello at her when she was present. They never talked, of course, and she was sure his anger at her wouldn't go away so quickly, but he was being kind. And she hated it.

She was laying on her bed, staring at her ceiling and contemplating this one night, when Gin walked in on her. She had been fingering that silver locket and she was thinking about Skittery.

"Are you honestly crying over him?" Gin blurted out rudely.

Midnight sat up quickly. She hadn't noticed she had cried at all, but when she brought her hand to her face, sure enough, a few tears had escaped. "Over who?" she asked as she dried her face.

Gin didn't even look up from the nightstand she was rummaging through. "Come on. No one else may have noticed, but the thing between you and Skittery was obvious to me."

"How?"

"You were both so secretive, you were extra careful all the time, that locket appeared suddenly around Valentine's Day… I don't know. A lot of things gave it away." She sat back on her heels. "And there was that one time I saw you in an alley together. Hm."

Midnight's stomach dropped. "You what? Why didn't you tell me you saw us?"

"I wanted to use it against you sometime," Gin replied matter-of-factly. "Either way, you need to suck it up and move on."

"Easy for you to say," Midnight grumbled and looked away.

There was silence for a short while, and Midnight could hear her the other girl rummaging through the drawer. Suddenly, Gin was sitting on the bed next to her. She held a photograph in her hands.

"Who's that?" Midnight asked stiffly.

"My parents with Shrimp and me." Sure enough, there was a tiny baby in an earnest looking mother's arms, and seated next to her was a young girl with a dirty face and a sour expression. Behind them, a tall man stood there, looking stern.

Midnight thought about her own family. "What happened to them?"

"Dead," Gin stated. "My mother had an affair, and my father came home one night after drinking and she told him she was going to be leaving him. He took out a gun and shot her.

"And the fun doesn't stop there." She paused and snorted in a way that she tried to make light of the situation. "I woke up, and walked out to see my father holding a gun. I didn't see my mother that night; no, I got that pleasure when I woke up. My father ushered me back to bed, kissed me goodnight and tucked me in. He said he loved me, and a tear fell from his eye. I hugged him and went to sleep. When I woke up, there were two bloody bodies sitting on my parents bed."

"That's awful," Midnight sympathized. She hadn't actually seen her parents dead bodies, but had felt their absence nonetheless. "What does Shrimp think about all this?"

"She doesn't know. She was about two when it happened, and I took her and ran away from the orphanage when we were little. I never told her. She just thinks that we were left on the stoop of the old adoption place as kids.

"Life is hell, Midnight. People die, people break our hearts and people leave us forever. And that's never going to change. We all just have to suck it up and deal with it."

Midnight nodded slowly as Gin got up, put her photograph back in her drawer and left the room.

_Life is hell_.


	35. Chapter 35: The Party

"Ew! This stuff is gross!"

Roars of laughter erupted from behind Midnight. She glanced over her shoulder to see a bunch of boys crowded around little Shrimp, who had her nose crinkled in a rather disgusted manner. Midnight had to chuckle; the small girl was holding a glass of beer in her hand. She was about to turn back around when another voice blared over the others.

"Shrimp! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" yelled the girl in question's older sister.

"Gin! They promised to give me a quarter if I took a sip of it!" she whined. Gin glared at the boys around them, some of whom were still holding in their giggles, and pulled her sibling aside. Midnight watched intently from where she was sitting on a small armchair in the lodging house living room.

"Shrimp, it's not worth the quarter," she said, kneeling down in front of the little girl so she was at eye level. "Beer is not a good thing."

"Yeah, and it tastes disgusting too."

Gin smiled slightly. "I'm glad you think so, but that's not quite it. Alcohol can turn normally good people into very bad people."

"But I only had a sip!" protested Shrimp.

"I don't care. You have any more sips and I'll make sure you really regret it, understand?" The little girl nodded, and Gin stood up. "Good. Now why don't you go find Les and beat him at a game of jacks."

Gin glanced up and looked around. Her eyes caught Midnight's for a moment, and they stared at each other. A certain understanding passed between them, and Midnight smiled kindly. Gin returned the gesture and walked away.

Midnight understood now; Gin had to suffer through her parents' deaths, but still had to be strong for her little sister. She had to be a sister, a mother, and a father for her. It had to get hard to be all three, and so it was probably a good thing Gin had Flirt. Someone had to be Gin's big sister. Midnight looked down at the glass of weak beer she held in her hand; it seamed less appealing now- tainted, almost. She set it down on the coffee table next to her.

"What, so you're too cool for this party that you wont even drink the beverages I provided?" Midnight looked up, and sure enough, the hostess of their little soiree walked up and sat down next to her. "It's your party! Why are you just sitting here?" Pink asked her.

"It's not my party, remember? It's Blink's." She gestured over to where Blink was talking and laughing with a few other newsies. He was wearing a rather obnoxious pink paper tiara.

"But we had the party for you, remember? Come on, come mingle with me." She grabbed her friend's wrist and attempted to pull her up from where she was sitting. Midnight stayed seated, and she became acutely aware of someone watching her. She scanned the room quickly as Pink rambled on. There, in the corner, listening to his girlfriend ramble on with about the same level of concentration as Midnight currently held for her friend, was Skittery.

_Of course. Who else would it be?_

He stood there, leaning against the wall and holding Abigail's hand. His eyes were glazed over as though he was deep in thought, but he blinked back into reality when he felt Midnight looking back at him. Suddenly, everyone else in the room was gone, and she saw only him. He nodded at her slowly, acknowledging her. She nodded back at him, and her heart was pounding in her chest.

Then, just as suddenly as it had been built up, the wall that they had created around themselves came tumbling down. Skittery broke eye contact with her and looked down at his girlfriend, who was acutely aware of who he was looking at. Abigail glared at Midnight and stormed out of the room. Skittery glanced back and forth between the two of them and sighed, running after Abigail.

"…Midnight? Are you coming or not?" She looked back up at her blonde friend, letting her brain catch up for a second. Taking a quick sip of her beer first, she nodded and stood up, following her friend around the room.

She smiled politely at her friends, and listened to Pink socialize, but wasn't really listening. _Why was he looking at me?_ she wondered. She had just assumed that Abigail and Skittery were all patched up, and that he wouldn't need to defend himself against accusations of cheating. Which was, without a doubt, exactly what he would be doing at this very moment. _Swearing to her that he never was with me._ Even after the fact, it was hard to be the 'other woman.'

She was standing there with Pink, Swifty and Kid Blink when a strange cry exploded from a nearby room. Everyone fell silent; it was hard to tell if that cry had been human or otherwise. A series of doors slammed, and then, a fury of red hair (one that Midnight had become especially used to seeing) appeared in the room and seamed to be making a beeline for their group. Midnight had hardly even realized that this redheaded person was Abigail and that she was coming towards her when Abigail struck out at her. Being the true girl that she was, Abigail grabbed for Midnight's hair, pulling her to the floor and screaming obscenities at her.

"You dirty little whore! How could you?!" she screamed, accenting her anger by banging her foe's head on the ground at every punctuation mark. Midnight regained enough of her composure to draw back and aim a fist in the general direction of Abigail's head. She had meant to strike her jaw, but instead she felt that bone-crushing contact at her opponent's nose. Abigail was off of her in an instant.

Midnight sat up and watched as Skittery picked up Abigail and stood her up, getting some of the blood that was gushing out of her nose on his shirt. "Get out, Abigail," he told her calmly. He stood there straight, waiting for her to catch up to what was going on.

"You'll regret this. I'll make sure you do," she swore as she walked out, clutching her hand to her nose.

Everyone in the room stood there and watched her leave. No one spoke, and no one was quite as stationary as Midnight was. Skittery took her hand and helped her up, motioning with his head to follow him to the roof. No words were spoken, and Midnight followed, dumbstruck.

--

"What was all that?" Midnight finally found her voice.

Skittery sighed. They were up on the roof, and neither had said anything for a few minutes. They just stood there, looking in their respective directions- Skittery at the floor, and Midnight at Skittery.

"I told her. I told her everything."

"Everything." Midnight repeated the word, as though she didn't understand what it meant.

"Everything. You, me, New Years, the alley, Valentines, Swifty… Everything." He looked up at her, almost reproachfully. "And I told her that I wouldn't be seeing her anymore."

"So, you… you want- er, you chose… or rather, you didn't want…" Midnight stumbled, still processing the information.

Skittery finished the thought for her. "I want you," he said, taking her hands. "I chose you."

And with that, he kissed her. But it wasn't the same sort of kiss that she usually got from him. Instead of being fueled by lust and mad with passion, this kiss was tender and short. A peck, rather, as Skittery stroked her cheek with her thumb. And it was one of the single happiest moments of her life.


	36. Chapter 36: Withdrawal

She blinked her eyes open, attempting to clear the film that had formed over her vision. The sun was shining through a nearby window, and everything was still and calm. Snuggling in closer to Skittery on his twin bed, she shut her eyes and enjoyed the peace and quiet. They'd fallen asleep together again; they were both still wearing the same clothes that they'd been wearing the night before. It seemed to happen to them a lot; they'd stay up late, talking, and eventually just fall asleep, many times halfway through a sentence. It was always nice to wake up in his arms.

Midnight took a moment to enjoy the rare peace they got. Usually, when she woke up, she was greeted by the sounds of the lodging house waking themselves up, dressing and grumbling. No one seemed to be awake yet…

"Shit!" Midnight sat up straight as a board and looked around. Every bed around them was empty. Next to her, she felt Skittery stirring.

"Wha-" He paused a moment before continuing. "Did we oversleep again?"

Midnight put her feet on the floor. "Yeah, but no one was kind enough to wake us up this time," she said as she walked over to the middle of the room so she could get a look at the clock. "It's 9 o'clock."

Skittery laughed cynically. "We're three hours behind. We'll never sell enough papes to even pay for the night, let alone any food!"

"You mean you don't have any money saved up at all?" she spun around at him.

"I spent it all on Abigail," he said, looking directly at Midnight. He wasn't the type of person to be embarrassed or regretful of his actions. It had been about two months since the party, and was now early May. In Skittery's eyes, old news was simply fact, whether it bothered Midnight or not. He was always being as honest as possible.

Midnight put her hands on her hips and thought about the situation. Finally she walked over to the bed and sat down. "If I do something, will you promise not to tell anyone about it?"

Skittery shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose. What are you going to do?"

"Wait for me downstairs," she told him as she headed off towards the staircase to the attic. She stopped and looked back at him. "Put on your best clothes too, please." He shrugged, but slowly and hesitantly did what he was told.

When Midnight descended the stairs, she had surely transformed. Instead of wearing her usual loose shirt and knickers, she had become a proper woman. She had on a high-waisted purple skirt and a white blouse, and her hair was neatly tucked into a small hat, done in such a fashion as a middle class wife would be able to achieve. Skittery would like to have said that it all made her look elegant and beautiful, but in his honest opinion, it made her look ordinary and common.

"Where are we going?" he asked her as she stood on the step above him.

"You'll see," she told him. She was holding her head high and her back straight, and seemed to be waiting for something. "Offer me your arm!" she commanded impatiently.

Skittery understood somehow. They were playing a sort of game, and he was to go along with it. She took his arm and they walked out onto the sidewalk. They walked slowly together, and Midnight nodded and smiled politely to passersby.

Skittery watched her intently; she was being someone he'd never met before. While he knew she had lived a very different life before the newsies, he hadn't imagined that she really did all that she said she did. It was unheard of to have a female police member or detective or agent or whatever she was. And yet, it appeared as though this was the sort of thing she'd been doing all her life.

About fifteen minutes later they turned a corner and were standing in front of a bank. "Midnight, what are you doing?!" Skittery hissed at her.

Midnight stopped and looked at him, and assured him with the utmost calm, "I'm not going to rob it, if that's what you're thinking." She looked back up at the building. "I'm going to make a withdrawal," she said with a suspicious smile.

"Midnight…" Skittery wasn't happy about what was going on, but he kept walking with her.

They ascended the stairs and walked into the large stone building. Men in suits were walking around, and as Skittery looked down at his clothes, he felt rather out of place. Sure, he'd put on his best, but that wasn't saying much. Meanwhile, Midnight pulled their group over to a clerk's desk, and stopped suddenly in front of a chair. After a moment of unspoken conversation, Skittery understood and pulled out the chair for Midnight to sit in.

After a moment of waiting, the clerk walked over to his desk and greeted them. "Miss Miller!" he welcomed as he held out his hand. "How wonderful to see you again! How's your uncle doing?"

Midnight put her gloved hand in the clerk's hand and smiled warmly. "He's doing fantastically, Mr. Warner, thank you for asking. He sent my younger brother and I to make a quick withdrawal, if you're not too busy to help old friends."

The man laughed. "I'm never to busy to help out Mr. Kline and his company. If you would kindly fill out this sheet, I'll have your money for you in no time." He handed her a slightly yellowed sheet and a fountain pen.

Skittery sat there dumbfounded at the situation. He'd never been in a bank, let alone welcomed kindly. There had to be more going on between Mr. Warner and Midnight than they were letting on. Who was this uncle they were speaking of? None of it made sense.

He leaned over slightly so as to get a better look at the paper Warner was having Midnight fill out. It was probably a call for some sort of undertaking, but he had to be sure. It looked like he would expect an ordinary withdrawal slip to look like. Midnight had filled in the appropriate lines with the appropriate information. The only thing fishy was her signature. She endorsed the page with flowing lines that spelled out the name _Brittany Ann Miller_ in cursive.

Once the clerk had left, Skittery turned to his companion and eyed her suspiciously. "Is that your real name? And who's this uncle of yours? What's going on here?"

All the warmth had left Midnight's face and she glared at Skittery. "Don't ask questions. Just be quiet and wait."

Warner returned and handed Midnight a receipt and some bills as she stood up, which she deposited directly into her coin purse. "There you are, Miss Miller," he said with a smile. "Do tell Mr. Andrew Kline to stop by himself sometime; it has been so long."

"I will do that," she replied courteously. After making all the proper farewells, Skittery and Midnight departed, arm in arm once more.

"What was that?" he asked her once they were safely outside.

"I told you already. I'm simply borrowing a few dollars from a friend." She reached into her coin purse and pulled out some dollar bills. "Eight for you, and eight for me. This should be more than enough to cover the sleeping in."

Skittery was so glad to have the morning's money problems solved that he decided not to press the matter for now. He was quiet the whole way back to the lodging house, and even kept to himself when they stopped at a post office long enough for Midnight to address an envelope with the receipt in it to that Mr. Kline.

It took Midnight three minutes to change back to her normal self once they got back to the lodging house. The sight of the Midnight that Skittery was so used to was enough to calm his nerves, and the two of them headed to Tibby's to meet the rest of the group for lunch.


	37. Chapter 37: Talks

"You tell me something now. I feel like I'm always the one talking," Skittery told her quietly as he lit a cigarette.

"I don't have a whole lot to tell," Midnight replied. They were up on the roof talking, as they had been kicked out from the bunkroom for being too loud. Midnight was lying on the ledge of the short wall, and Skittery leaned against it near her feet. To her right was Skittery. To her left was nothing but a three-story drop to the street. It was a rather thrilling place to be.

"Just tell me a story."

She sighed. "Ya know, I knew a kid once. He was a real storyteller. Always talking, he was. We used to sit by the river and he'd act out these crazed tales of circus freaks, lion wrestling, and in his stories, he was always the person who saved the day or solved the problem. Now, he was a 90-pound redheaded kid who didn't have a speck of brains, but a whole lot of whit about him. I don't think he ever really saved the day or solved the problem, he just liked to think he did." Midnight swung her legs over to the right side of the wall and pulled herself up to a seated position. "What good would it do me to tell you what I'd like to think I've done when I've never done it? That'd be a lie," she told him sarcastically as she took his cigarette from his hands.

"My father used to do that," Skittery said as he took back his cigarette. "Misconstrue something to fit his purpose."

"You've never mentioned your father. Tell me about him."

"There's really not a whole lot to say. He left us when I was eight." Skittery took a drag of his cigarette. "He didn't drink, he didn't gamble, and he didn't hit us. I thought he was a perfect father, and I idolized him in that way that all little boys do. But he had a mistress. Apparently, she was a prostitute whom he loved very much, and realized one day that he loved her more than he loved Ma. And he was gone. But I remember he always did that… wait. There you go, getting me talking about myself again. You tell me something now."

"Skittery…" Midnight stood up. Taking back the cigarette, she took a couple of steps with her back to him. "I don't have anything to say."

"Tell me about your parents," he offered.

"No." She spoke firmly.

"Tell me about how you got to working for the police then," he said, still trying to be supportive.

Midnight turned and glared at him. "Skittery! Just drop it and leave me alone."

"Christ, what's your problem," he grumbled, obviously hurt and surprised at her sudden outburst.

She stood there for a bit longer with her back turned. She really didn't want to talk about herself; why couldn't he just get that through his head? Was it really so wrong for her to feel that way?

Throwing the cigarette to the ground, Midnight uttered a quick goodnight and climbed down the fire escape. She crawled into bed, and tried to fall asleep.

She was still awake when she heard Skittery descend the stairway twenty minutes later. He stopped for a moment outside her window, and even though she had her back to it, she could see him sitting there, watching her. She pretended to be asleep.

"I didn't mean to piss you off," he said quietly after five minutes.

"Yeah, well, you did." Midnight was still seething.

Silence, and then, "Why don't you want to tell me anything? Don't you trust me?"

She sat up in her bed and thought about it for a moment. "I'm just not ready," she told him finally.

"And when do you think you'll be ready?"

Midnight shrugged. "I don't know."

"Fair enough." He stood up, wiped his hands on his shirt and continued walking down the stairs. "'Night," he called as he went down.

"'Night," she replied, laying down and going to sleep.


	38. Chapter 38: A Visitor

It was humid and warm on this particular July afternoon. So hot in fact, that Midnight decided to skip Tibby's all together and just go back to the Lodging House. She wasn't the only one with this idea; as she stepped into the living room, she had trouble finding a place to sit, as every chair was occupied. She sat down on the arm of the chair Skittery was in and took off her hat, wiping her sweat with it. No one was talking; they were all happy to be inside and out of the sun's rays.

A short while later, voices could be heard coming from the nearby entrance. There was the frail man's voice, easily recognized as Kloppman, but the other two were uncommon to the newsies' ears. A deep man spoke slowly, and then every once in a while, a timid woman's voice chirped in. Midnight looked around at the others. They were listening as well, but most of them shrugged it off.

Then, Kloppman entered the room and coughed to get the group's attention. It was an unnecessary gesture, as they all noticed him. "Um, er- there is a lady and a gentleman looking for a Brittany Ann Miller, and they were told she lived here. Is there a Brittany in here?"

Midnight's heart stopped. No one knew who she was, unless it was the police or government workers who had reason to come looking for her. She was happy here, and she didn't want to go to some orphanage or anything like that. She kept her mouth shut.

When no one answered, Kloppman continued. "No? Well, as you can see, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, I was right," he said to the unseen couple. "There is no Brittany Ann Miller in my house."

"She has to be!" the woman's voice cried. An over dressed middle-aged woman entered the room. There were tears in her large eyes as they frantically scanned the room, landing on Midnight. "There she is! Brittany! Brittany, darling!"

Midnight stood up and faced her, instantly recognizing the woman. She had haunted her dreams for the past eleven years. A mother doesn't reenter one's life after so long and be greeted warmly. "What are you doing here?" she asked coldly and calmly.

Her hostility pierced through the woman's smile and confused her. A tall broad man stepped behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Brittany," he said to Midnight, "why don't you join us in the kitchen quickly. I think we need to talk."

For one reason or another, Midnight complied. She could hear Kloppman ushering all the others upstairs, but she couldn't take her eyes off of the woman. But no matter how hard she tried, she was not able to convince herself otherwise. This was her mother, back suddenly after almost eleven years away. They shared the same large eyes, the same build, and the same hair. They even cried the same way. It was undeniable. She was back.

Once Midnight was seated at the small table in the small lodging house kitchen, she asked again. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like, Brittany? We came to look for you!" her mother told her.

She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why'd you leave in the first place? What in the world could possibly cause you to abandon your only child."

"I figured you were in safe hands and could handle yourself…"

"I was seven!" Midnight cried. She shook with rage and repeated her question.

Her mother opened and closed her mouth a few times, as though she was trying to find the right words, and was interrupted by her male companion. "Don't worry about that, Brittany. She was confused, that's all," he supplied.

Midnight stood up quickly. "Excuse me, but who are you to tell me not to worry about it?! I was without a mother for eleven years, never knowing if she was dead or alive or otherwise, and trying to keep myself alive and trying to keep myself out of jail and all the while wondering if I had done something so wrong to deserve all of this and all you can tell me is not to worry about it? I demand an explanation, and I don't want to hear it coming out of your pompous mouth. Secondly, it's Midnight. I haven't been called Brittany for years and I don't intend to start now." She turned to her mother. "Tell me what happened," she demanded.

The man stood up as well, starting to argue her when her mother put her hand over his, saying calmly, "George, she's right. I owe her something. Please, sit down."

"Ann…" he grumbled. She gave him a meaningful glance, and he closed his mouth and sat down. Midnight did the same.

The woman cleared her throat and began. "I was drunk. When your father died, I didn't know what to do with myself, so I drank. And I drank a lot. And I'm not proud of it, but one day when I was rather inebriated, I decided I would move to Pennsylvania to live with my brother. I picked up all of my things and I left. I left you behind, because I was scared. I didn't think I could raise you on my own and I didn't think I could live without your father and I honestly didn't want to. I had hoped that you would be adopted by the Studebakers and I tried very hard not to think about you."

"That much was obvious," Midnight snorted.

"Yes well. I'm not proud. Anyway, I lived with your uncle and I stayed by myself for many years. I had to get over what had happened. Then, one day, I met George." She looked lovingly at her companion, who, until just now, had seamed to Midnight to be simply a male chaperone. "George owns a lot of land in Pennsylvania, you see, and for some strange reason, he loved a poor widow like me. We wed, and once I told him about my past, we started our search for you. And now here we are!" she said smiling. "Mother and daughter again, and it's all thanks to George."

As pissed off as Midnight was, she couldn't help but be somewhat relieved. She finally knew what happened, after all these years of wondering. She knew her mother was happy, even if Midnight wasn't always.

And that was why she let her mother hug her, and even allowed herself to hug her back. Her mother wiped her eyes and held Midnight's hands. "Darling, I have to make it all up to you. Come home with us. You deserve so much better than this lodging house and these newsboys. We'll get you into some beautiful dresses, and we'll get you a tutor so you can finally be taught to read and write and-"

"I can read already," Midnight told her mother matter-of-factly.

"Oh. Well, then we'll just have to get some books for you," she replied, somewhat surprised. "You'll become such a young lady and then-"

"No."

Her mother was startled. "What do you mean, no? Isn't this what you wanted?"

"It's what you wanted, not me."

Tears started to fall again from Mrs. Anderson's eyes as she held tightly onto her daughter's hands. "I just want you to be happy," she said.

Midnight squeezed her hands, and said quietly, "I am happy." She hugged her mother once more. "Thank you for letting me know what happened, but this is my home. I'm not your daughter anymore."

The woman nodded and wiped her eyes. "I understand. I wish you the best."

Midnight smiled and said, "Goodbye Ann."

"Goodbye Midnight."


	39. Chapter 39: Confrontation

"What was all that about?"

Midnight looked up as she walked into the living room after seeing her visitors off. Skittery was sitting there, by himself, in the same chair she had left him in. "What was all what about?" she replied, keeping her cool.

"That," Skittery stated abruptly, standing up. "Who was that woman?"

Trying to brush past him, she dismissed his question. "Don't worry about it, Skitts. Let's go upstairs with the others."

He grabbed her arm as she walked past and turned her around to face him. "Don't tell me not to worry about you. I care about you and I want to know. Who was that woman?" He spoke with an authority that made Midnight put her guard up even more.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said to the floor. She was refusing to make eye contact.

Skittery laughed sarcastically. "You never do." He let go of her arms and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "Why are you so afraid to open up? Why can't you trust me?"

"There are things in my past that I'm not quite over yet," Midnight said through clenched teeth, really not wanting to go there, not now.

"We all have things that we have to overcome!" Skittery cried. "It's a part of growing up and maturing. You're not alone here."

"Skittery…"

He kept pushing. "I don't know what I've done that makes me so untrustworthy. I mean, all I've done is be here for you, and you don't seam to care. You have this wall up whenever things concern you, and I don't know what to do about it."

"It's not that I don't trust you its just-"

"I mean, isn't that the basis of a relationship? Trust? Can we even be together if you can't trust me?" Skittery interrupted.

Midnight suddenly became very angry. "Oh, you're really one to talk! What about Abigail? She couldn't trust you, and yet you expected her to stay with you anyway! Now you question if we can be together?" Midnight started to raise her voice to him, and all of the sudden the positions in the argument changed.

"That was different. Abigail-"

"How so, Skittery?" Midnight broke in. "Because Abigail had reason to be suspicious and I don't? Is that what you were going to say? That my defensiveness is petty and pointless? Come on, Skittery, I want to know! What were you going to say?" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared.

"That isn't it, Midnight," he said quietly, getting frustrated with her.

Tears started to stream down her face as she shook with anger. "What is it then, Skittery? Why can't you just let me be to myself and keep my past behind me?"

"Because it's obviously not behind you," he told her calmly. He took her hands and continued. "Midnight, I really do care about you. I can see that there are things still haunting you, and you're not over them. God, I can't even believe I'm saying this, but I think I may love you. And all I want is for you to love you too."

Midnight was stunned by this, and found it hard to believe. She was not the type of girl who was loved; she was the friend. Maybe a short-lived girlfriend, but never a love. She learned this lesson a long time ago, and she had grown accustomed to it. But here was this perfectly attractive boy- a man, really- who loved her.

She hardly noticed when Skittery sat her down on the couch and positioned himself next to her. She didn't pay attention when he brushed his thumb across her face.

"Midnight, will you please just tell me what has happened to you?" he asked her gently.

Shaking her head slowly, she told him, "I don't even know where to start."

"Try the beginning."

It took a few moments for Midnight to push herself that far back, and to think of all that had happened. Finally, she began, slowly at first.

"My mother and father and I lived together, and I was a normal little girl. I loved my parents very much, and one day, my father didn't come home from the factory he worked at. He was killed in an accident there. Mother became a drunk and forced me to go to work for the foreman who was responsible for Father's death. And once I did, she disappeared. That was her who just came back. She said she got scared and didn't want to raise me alone. So, I went to live with Lars Studebaker as a live-in maid. I may as well have been a servant, for how he and his family treated me. And Mr. Studebaker- uh, he…" she trailed off.

"He what?" Skittery pressed.

Midnight kept her eyes fixated on her hands. "He beat me. And not only that, but he'd come in at night and he'd, uh. Well, he'd have his way with me." She glanced up at her companion with a look of sorrow, remorse, and shame.

It concerned him. "How old were you?" he asked.

"Seven when it first started happening. Anyway," she continued, "I got sick of it. The night before my tenth birthday, as I was washing the dishes, I was thinking about what I really wished I could have for my birthday, what I really wanted. And as I cleaned a butcher's knife, I knew deep down what that present would be. So I hid the knife in my dress, and went to bed, waiting patiently for my prize." More tears began to collect at her eyelids.

"Did you?" Skittery questioned, horrified.

She nodded. "I killed him. And then I ran. I was in and out of the refuge, until I started to work for Andrew. But I was never caught or blamed for it," she said, starting to sob quietly. "And what's the worst about it is, he was Hammer's father. Hammer, who hunted me across the years, wanted his revenge on me for killing his dad. I killed his father, just like my own father was killed. I made someone else go through the pain and the heartache that I was forced to go through. I never even thought about the consequences my actions would have for Studebaker's family. I mean," she cried, sobbing and shaking violently, "I was ten years old, for Christ's sake! And I killed a man!"

Skittery put his arms around her, holding her tightly. They sat there like that, rocking back and forth slightly as she washed away her remorse.

Once she had calmed down somewhat, Skittery put his hands on her shoulders and looked her square in the eye. "Thank you for trusting me," he said first of all. "Also, I want you to know that I do not blame or condemn you for your actions. I think you do that to yourself enough."

Midnight grinned sheepishly through the tears. "I love you, Skittery," she told him, getting used to the feeling.

"I love you too, Midnight."


	40. Chapter 40: Continuation

And that was how things became for Midnight. She grew to truly love Skittery, even through the fights and the arguments that erupted between their equally stubborn personalities. Her friendships with the other newsies, especially with Pink, Swifty, and Jack, grew stronger every day.

It was a much different life than the one she was accustomed to. Things became routine. Wake up, sell the papes, eat, save some money, sleep. But it was a life that she enjoyed. It was nice for her to stay in one place and do one job. She had begun to feel like a normal person.

And then, like it always does, life changed.


	41. Chapter 41: Return

On December 11th, 1900, Midnight turned nineteen years old. It was a common habit of the newsboys to through a party for a comrade's birthday (more as an excuse to be social than as a celebration of the person), but this time things were more significant. It was one year ago on this day that Midnight met Hammer for the last time.

"Look at Mush and Mia." Pink poked Midnight in the ribs and pointed over to the pair, who were all over each other. "That's just like Mush to be with a different girl every other week," she added. The girls chuckled at their petty gossip.

Sitting nearby in the boys' bunkroom, the traditional poker game continued. Most of the boys were taking part in the activity, or at least watching it. Skittery had his back to her, but would occasionally turn his head around to grin at Midnight. She watched him with a happy smile on her face.

"Uh, Midnight," Pink whispered. Midnight looked to where her friend was pointing, and felt her smile slide off her face.

Andrew. Of course.

He was staring at her through blood shot eyes, and Midnight stared back. How dare he lean against the wall there, like he owns the place! How dare he think he can just intrude, and watch her, unannounced! How dare he come at all!

She looked over at Skittery, found him to be engrossed in his game, and stood up. She walked quickly and quietly over to Andrew, but refused eye contact and brushed past him, continuing down to the main level. He knew to follow.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered fiercely. She needed to deal with this quick and unnoticed; Skittery wouldn't like the idea of Midnight going back on duty.

Andrew snorted. "What do you think I'm doing here?"

"Look, Andrew, if this is about helping you out with another case, I already told you, I'm done."

He laughed again. "Silly Andrew!" he cried, slapping a hand to his forehead. "Of course she thinks it's about work. How could you ever think she'd have seen it already!" He continued to slap himself in a drunken way that was unlike him.

His volume was starting to concern Midnight. "Shh," she quieted him, grabbing his hand from his head and involuntarily keeping it. "What should I have seen?" she asked, lowering her voice a little.

Andrew took her other hand, and alarms in Midnight's ears started to go off. This was not at all like the Andrew she knew. Stiff, stubborn, and prideful. That was who Andrew was.

"Midnight, I love you. I think I always have."

Her jaw dropped. She stood there, stunned, for a few moments.

"You're drunk," she told him, taking her hands away and stepping back.

"No I'm not!" he cried. "I'm not, Midnight, this is something I knew a long time ago. God," he said, calming down and running a hand through those golden boy locks, "I think I even knew you weren't just any girl when I first met you, all those years back."

"Andrew, think about what you're saying, this is serious…" She took another step back as he took a step forward.

"I've thought enough, Midnight. I'm done thinking, and its time for me to actually say something. I love you. Now you think, and tell me what you have to say!" He had her backed up against the wall, and she had no choice but to do as he said.

She thought about it. Could Andrew have really loved her all along? That day at the park… he really had looked distressed. Was it because he was truly worried for her? And he had wanted her to come live with her, a blatantly obvious sign. Why hadn't she noticed what it truly meant? His willingness to keep her out of the refuge in the very beginning- was that love or just kindness?

What did this mean for her? How did she really feel? All the teasing that used to go on between them- was that flirting? Midnight wasn't the flirtatious type. She was the watch from a far type. But she did that too! She'd watch him while they would be working on things, and wonder what he'd be thinking about! And Rachel Williams… the new detective… Midnight absolutely despised her when she walked into Andrew's office that day. Was it jealousy?

Could she really have loved him as well?

She looked up through confused tears at the man who had for so long been a brother figure to her. And suddenly, before her very eyes, he began to change. She suddenly had a different sort of affection for him, and she realized it had been there all along, just waiting for her to see it.

And she reached up, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

Upstairs, sixty seconds earlier, Skittery glanced behind him to grin at his girlfriend, and found her to be absent. He looked around the room for her quickly, and not seeing her there, he quietly folded. He went over to her best friend, and when she was questioned about it, she didn't say a thing, she only looked towards the staircase. Skittery followed Pink's glance and descended the stairs, just in time to see his girlfriend reach up and kiss another man.

Midnight heard someone at the stairs, and looked over to see Skittery. Skittery, whom she hadn't even thought of for the past few minutes, and who should have been on her mind throughout!

"Shit," she muttered.

Skittery turned and started to walk up the stairs, a look of hurt and betrayal and rage building in his face. Midnight rushed over and grabbed his hand and started gushing her apologies, and behind her, she could hear Andrew hitting his head and muttering insults at himself.

"Skittery, I'm sorry! I don't know what-"

"Of course you know! You were just kissing him!"

"Stupid Andrew, of course she has someone…"

"Andrew, shut up and stop hitting yourself!"

"So it's you then, is it? Why couldn't you have just stayed the hell away, hm? Go back to your station, you scum!"

"I'm the scum? You're abusing this lady!"

"Andrew, I'm not a lady, I'm not being abused…"

"Well, you were just kissin' her! She's my girl, damn it! You can't just walk in here and think you can have her, you little-"

Before Midnight could stop it, they were fighting. The rest of the newsies heard the yelling and collected at the top of the stairs, very few of them seeing what was going on. Midnight screamed for them to stop and get off of each other, but neither of them listened. They were wrestling, pinned each other down and aiming fists.

Finally, Jack and Swifty, Midnight's heroes, pushed through the crowd and broke the two of them up. Jack held onto Andrew, and Swifty had Skittery.

"What the hell!" Midnight cried. "Both of you! What the hell were you thinking?"

"Pick, Midnight," Skittery said, avoiding her question all together. He was shaking with rage, and there was blood on his lip. "Him, or me."

She was taken back. "What?" she whispered.

"He's right," Andrew told her. He was equally as sweaty and angry. "It's either the urchin or its me. Pick."

Picking between the two of them was the last thing she wanted to do. She loved Skittery, and she had thought he was the first person to every love her, and that made him special. But now that she knew the truth, it was hard to let go of Andrew.

Midnight turned and ran. She couldn't be there any longer. She needed to be alone, and to think.

Parties never ended well for Midnight.


	42. Chapter 42: Decision Time

She slowed down once she realized that running wasn't doing anything; her problems would still be there, no matter how far or fast she ran.

She needed a place to think, somewhere she could be by herself and wouldn't be bothered. Looking around her, Midnight found that she knew exactly where she was. She had come to a halt in front of the very place that she had once considered a home.

Midnight didn't waste any time climbing the fire escape on the side of the abandoned apartment building. Judging from the looks of the place, the City of New York still wasn't taking much time to do anything about the countless abandoned places it had to offer. The building looked just as deserted as ever.

Of course, it was suppose to be 'haunted.'

Finding her way through the debris, Midnight finally entered her room. She scanned it quickly, and found everything to have been left untouched. "Amazing," she muttered under her breath. No one else had found her hideaway.

She groped her way along until she found the lumpy old mattress, and feeling suddenly exhausted, she collapsed onto it and fell asleep.

A few hours later, Midnight woke up. Rays of early morning sun were peaking through the broken glass of the one window. All over the city, newsies in different boroughs would be waking up to another day of the papes.

What was it that was so great about being a newsie that made them all get up so early every morning to very little money? It wasn't like it would be too hard for most of them to find a little job somewhere, especially the older boys. They could go wash dishes at some restaurant, or something of the sort. They would probably get better wages, and there wouldn't be any problems with Newspaper Tycoons or Strikes. Better yet, what had made Midnight stay there, all that time, waking up early to very little money?

The thinking had begun.

Even without having to ask herself, Midnight knew the answer. It wasn't that she was waking up to very little money; it was that she was waking up to very good friends. Friends, unlike any she'd ever had before. She found herself with a close friend who was a girl- something that had never happened to her. There were also Jack and Swifty, two people who were her supports. If Midnight had known what it was like to have a brother, she might have found it to be like having those two. Although Midnight would never admit it, she had found a family in the newsies.

The more time she spent thinking about it, the more she realized that these two standpoints on why she was a newsie really represented the two parts of Midnight's brain. One side knew that she needed more of a future than the newsies had to offer, while the other couldn't bring itself to part from the people she had grown to love.

If she chose Andrew, Midnight would find stability and happiness. She knew now, without doubt, that she did love him, and she really always had. It wasn't an easy thing to admit, but it was true. It was a deep affection she held for him, and she honestly cared for his well being. Midnight could see herself with Andrew for the rest of her life.

If she decided to be with Skittery, there would never be a dull day in her life. Skittery's smile had a way of sending chills down her spine, and his silence got to her in the worst ways. Their two personalities would either be in utter bliss, or total detestation with each other. But no matter what happened between them, Midnight knew that she would never stop loving that smile.

But, with Skittery, there was no clear future. Just one day after another of carryin' the banner. She didn't know if she was able to live like that anymore. It was time for her to settle down.

However, she didn't want to be tied down too tightly. Midnight was afraid that with Andrew, she wouldn't be given any freedom to be herself, and that she'd be forced to grow up to Andrew's level. He was, after all, about ten years her senior.

What was she to do? She loved them both, in different ways, and knew she could be happy with both, and it really came down to this: Stability or Adventure?

For the next three days, Midnight stayed shut up in her room, replaying these facts over and over in her head. She'd pick up a dusty old book to read, trying to avert her attention, but she still couldn't escape her dilemma.

She even started thinking about her whole life in general, and not just this one decision, but also those that had lead up to it. After a while, she remembered that it was in this building, over a year ago, that Midnight had first met Skittery. And of course, where else would her mind turn, but back to the problem at hand…

Finally, on the third day, Midnight stood up. She had made up her mind. Wiping her face dry of any tears that may remain, she held her head high, and walked out the door to make her decision known.


	43. Chapter 43: Loose Ends

_Oh God. That was hell. _

She had done it. Midnight had made her decision, and she told those whom it had concerned. The only thing left for her to do was to tie the loose ends and be on her way.

Reaching the front door, Midnight paused. This was it. This could be the last time she'd ever enter the lodging house doors again. Fully savoring the moment, she inhaled deeply, and went in swiftly and quietly. This was going to be one of the toughest things she'd ever have to do, with the exception of that which she had already done, of course.

"Hello, Kloppman," she said kindly to the old man. Instantaneously, she knew that something was up. The old bookkeeper, who would always make a point of greeting a person when they walked in, was silent. He didn't bother to look up. Even Kloppman knew what she had done.

Lowering her eyes to the floor once again, Midnight continued on her way. She passed through the living room, and found a few people sitting around. Amongst the faces, a few old favorites popped up.

Upon seeing her in the room, Swifty turned bone-chillingly stiff. Midnight watched him as he stood up slowly, giving her so dead of a stare that even a corpse could have trouble imitating it. They stared at each other like that for a few moments, sharing a conversation that required no words, until Swifty broke off and stormed away, into another room. Midnight understood.

_I'm dead to him._

Pink rushed over to her quickly from where she was seated, grabbing Midnight's arm. "Don't worry about Swift, he's just-"

"I'm sorry, Pink," she interrupted. The blonde was taken back by this sudden apology, and for a moment, Midnight could see the hurt that flashed across the girl's eyes.

But that moment was gone, and Pink nodded. "We do what we must," she told her, understanding. "Let's go upstairs and get your things."

The two of them started to ascend the stairs, and Midnight could sense eyes following her.

Just as they passed the door that entered into the boy's bunkroom on the second level, a voice sliced through the silent walk and penetrated Midnight's eardrums. "He's not here," Jack pointed out.

Closing her eyes tightly, Midnight tried to hold emotions back. "Thank you for the information," she muttered slowly, choosing her words carefully.

"He stormed through here about twenty minutes ago, grabbing some stuff. He didn't say what happened, but judging from his demeanor, we were able to draw some conclusions." His voice was icy cold, and precisely picked so as to really get to her. She turned slowly to face him. A few of the other boys were behind him, listening.

"Once again, thank you for the-"

"You know, that's some nerve you've got, thinking you can just come in here freely," he continued. "After all, you're not a newsie anymore."

"Jack, just leave her alone," Pink said, defensively. "Let her be."

"I just came to get my things. I'll be gone in a few minutes."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped towards her as he spoke. "You aren't just leaving him, you know. You chose to leave us as well. I hope you do know that," he said, leaning forward into her face.

"Yes, Jack, I've taken that into consideration. Now," she said calmly, trying to stay as level headed as she could, "if you'll let me go, I'll take my things and be on my way."

"No, you don't get it!" he cried. "You're _leaving_. That means no coming back, gone forever. You're done. For good."

"Jack, it's not like I'm leaving you at the refuge this time!" exclaimed Midnight, pulling out the thing that tied their lives together. "You'll all be fine without me, and you're leading good lives. Just let me live mine the way I chose to, please."

The infamous Jack Kelly backed down, something he wasn't accustomed to. "You know what? You're right. It's your choice." He resumed his position at the door frame, leaning against it and folding his arms across his chest. Many other newsies in the room held similar expressions of distrust. Gin in particular had an especially sour look. "Have a good life, Girl."

Not quite knowing what to do, Midnight continued down the hall and went up into the attic. She left Pink behind her, wanting to be alone.

The attic was luckily empty, and when Midnight walked over to the bed that had belonged to her, she found all her things to be put away for her into her sack. Sitting on top of the bag was a small note, which read:

Packed for you, knew you'd need it. Also threw in my copy of Les Miserables for good measure. Victor Hugo is God.

-Pink

Finding that all the loose ends had been tied for her, and there was nothing left for her to do, Midnight grabbed the sack and exited as fast as she could. So much for sentiment, she just wanted to get the hell out of there. She crawled out the fire escape, choosing to not have to backtrack through the newsies.

Once she reached the ground below, Midnight was met by the man whom she had chosen. She ran to him, feeling his arms surround her and laying her head on his chest. Feeling protected and safe, Midnight knew she had made the right decision.

"Oh god, Andrew," she whispered. "That was so hard."

"Shh," he replied, stroking her hair as she cried softly. "I know."

Now that he was completely sober, it was painfully obvious to her how much he loved her. "I love you, Andrew," she told him.

"I love you too, Midnight."

And suddenly, the warmth she had surrounded herself with was broken. Something didn't fit.

"Andrew?" She took a step away and looked at him in the eye. "Could we not call me 'Midnight' any more?"

He was startled by this request. This was the girl who hated her real name, and normally refused to answer to anything less than her nickname. "Okay, uh… Brittany?" he tried.

"No." She was quick to push that one away. "There's too much associated with both those names. I'm no longer Midnight, and I could never become Brittany again."

"What should you go by then?"

Thinking about it for a moment, she had it. "Call me Ann," she told him.

He smiled, and tested it out a few times. "Ann… Ann Kline. Andrew & Ann Kline. Or," he laughed, "Ann & Andrew, if you prefer."

"That's a lot of ann's," she pointed out, laughing at the ridiculous way their names sounded together.

"But it fits," he insisted. "I like it."

"I do too," she smiled back.

And with that settled, Midnight was laid to rest, and Ann emerged.

End Part Two

**Author's Note: **Alas, we have reached a two-thirds point! Thank you for sticking through this far, I know that's a lot of chapters. Oh, and please, don't hate me. Just wait.


	44. Chapter 44: 1905

Part Three

_Late July 1905_

"Ann, have you seen my jacket anywhere?"

Ann set the plates of pancakes in front of Amanda and Alexander. "It's Saturday, what do you need your jacket for?" she called as she cut her son's breakfast into pieces.

Andrew came down the stairs and leaned against the railing. "I think I may be onto something in the Andersen Case. I need to go into the office. Have you seen my suit jacket anywhere?" he told her as he finished buttoning up his shirt.

"Andrew Kline," Ann began, setting down the knife and fork she was using to cut up Alexander's pancakes. "You were going to take the kids to Central Park while I ran some errands, remember?" She walked out of the dining room and over to the stairway with her arms folded.

"I'm sorry, but you know how it is. You get onto something and then-"

"Yes, I know. You don't need to tell me. But what do you expect me to do? They were really looking forward to it."

"I know that, but I don't know what I can do. I'll take them tomorrow, when we can all go. I promise," he told her as he fumbled with his bowtie.

Ann sighed heavily and looked at her husband. "Ann, don't look at me like that," he told her as he took her shoulders in his hands fondly. "Please," Andrew pleaded, smiling his golden-boy smile. "I'm sure Mrs. Simon down the street would be more than willing to watch the little ones while you shop. Just please, don't be mad at me."

She glanced over through the open dining room door at her children, and then to her husband. "Tomorrow, then," she told him. "And if you don't take them, I'll be having the bed to myself for a few nights."

Andrew raised his eyebrows and grinned playfully. "You think you could go a night without me, do you?" He had his hands on her hips and quickly pulled her close.

"You think I'm kidding?" Ann hit him lightly on the shoulder, hiding her smirk.

Andrew responded by reaching down and kissing her swiftly. "Yes," he whispered as he pulled away. "Now have you seen my jacket or not?"

Ann smiled and reached up to straighten his collar. "It's laying on top of the piano in the parlor," she told him. He thanked her and went to retrieve it.

She stood there, at the bottom of the stairs, looking around her small two-story house. She watched as her children ate their food. Amanda, at four-years-old, was Ann's eldest child. She was adorable, with her large green eyes and her father's golden blonde hair. She sat very still, a lady in the making. Alexander, on the other hand, had the light brown hair of his mother, and couldn't seam to sit still. He was only a year younger than Amanda, but he appeared much younger.

Who would have thought that the formerly cold and distant Ann could ever grow up to become a housewife, with children of her own? Some days it was hard for Ann to believe she had come so far. But one look at her son and daughter and she knew that she was in the right place.

It took a while, but after she fed, cleaned and clothed them, Ann dropped her children off at Mrs. Simon's, who really was more than happy to take them.

She strolled down the streets, heading towards her usual grocer. She stopped in front of it, but instead of going in, she decided to enjoy her afternoon alone. Ann continued walking, waiting for the next store she came to, rather than go to the regular one.

Married life had turned out to be very different than Ann had anticipated. She loved her husband and she loved her family, but it didn't give her much alone time. Days were spent with the children, and nights were spent with Andrew. Life had become routine, and occasionally, she liked to switch things around a bit and break the cycle.

She walked around aimlessly for about another fifteen minutes before she came to a building with a sign displaying the name of the establishment. _S & S General Store_, it read. It looked to be a respectable enough shop, so she pushed open the door and entered it.

The bell tinkled as she went in. It was a small business, most likely run by a family who lived in an apartment above. Small feet scurrying across the ceiling confirmed her belief.

Ann smoothed out the creases in her dark green skirt, and pulled out her written grocery list from her handbag. Browsing through the isles, she could hear two male voices arguing in a backroom behind the counter. She ignored the argument and continued her shopping.

It wasn't until she heard the door slam that she even realized that the argument had come out from the backroom. A man with black hair was standing at the counter rubbing his face with his hands. Ann shrugged it off.

"I'm sorry about that, ma'am," the shopkeeper called, suddenly cheerful.

"It's quite alright," Ann replied over her shoulder. Suddenly acutely aware of someone's eyes on her, Ann turned around slowly. She was beginning to get an inkling of regret that she had decided to break her routine.

Ann quickly put away the item she had been looking at and brought what she had to the counter. She wanted to pay for what she had, and get out of there. Her instincts didn't trust her surroundings.

Ann had always known to trust her instincts, and once again, they proved to be correct.

As she sifted through the contents of her handbag for the few coins she owed him, the man spoke softly. "I can't believe it," he muttered. Ann ignored him and pulled out a couple of nickels.

"Midnight?"

The sound of her money falling to the floor filled the room as Ann's heart stopped.


	45. Chapter 45: Catching Up

Ann's eyes darted up in the direction of the man, and at first, she didn't trust them.

"Swifty?" she muttered, almost in horror.

The Asian man laughed, obvious joy filling his face. "No one has called me that forever!" he cried, coming around the counter to Ann's side. He hugged her, and Ann awkwardly stood there while he did. Not knowing quite what to do with herself, she patted his back lightly. "What're you doing here?" he asked as he stepped back.

"I, uh. I was buying groceries," she stuttered, still not catching up. "So, uh," she started as she patted her flyaway hairs back into her bun, "how've you been?"

"Good, good," he assured her. He stood there, eyes glistening as he looked back at her. It seemed as though he had so much more he wanted to say, but he didn't know where to start.

After a moment's silence, he went back around the counter to what Ann presumed to be the door to the back room. "Just wait until Elizabeth finally meets you, she'll be so…" he muttered under his breath as he made his way to the open door. "Lizzy! Could you come down here please? Bring the girls with you," he called.

Ann could hear those little feet scurrying faster across the ceiling, and the sounds of high-pitched voices could be heard. Not knowing what to do, Ann just stood there with her hands clasped neatly together, the perfect statuette of an upper-middle class housewife.

About a minute later, Elizabeth and three young girls came clambering down an unseen set of stairs and made their way into the store itself.

For all the time Swifty spent praising his wife's beauties, Ann had to admit, she was rather disappointed. It wasn't that she was ugly- on the contrary, really- it was just that she wasn't gorgeous. Elizabeth was rather short, and definitely carried the signs of childbirth. She had dark brown hair that was sloppily thrown up into a bun. Her eyes, however, sparkled with kindness and warmth and there could be no doubt that this was a very lively woman.

"This is my wife, Elizabeth," Swifty heralded as the plump lady smiled, "and these are our three daughters. Mary is the oldest at seven, then there's Eve- she's four- and the one that Mary is holding is our two-year-old, Jane. Girls, this is my good friend, Midnight."

Ann smiled and stepped forward, holding her hand out in salutations. "It's Ann now, actually. Pleasure to meet you fine young ladies," she grinned as she shook Eve's little hand. She couldn't help but note that the little girl would be the same age as her Amanda, though the two girls obviously had very differing temperaments.

Ann then glanced up at Elizabeth and was taken back by the hostility she saw there. All the gentle kindness was stripped from the woman's eyes and was instead replaced by a severe disdain.

"Nice to meet you too, Miss Midnight," Elizabeth sliced. "I've heard an awful lot about you."

_I'm sure you have_, Ann thought to herself.

Swifty, feeling the obvious tension, broke the awkwardness. "Listen, Midnight, why don't we go for a walk? Do some catching up?"

Ann was ready to be done here. "Sure," she replied, trying not to sound too happy about leaving. "It really was great to meet you all."

"You too," Elizabeth called as Swifty bid her goodbye.

Once safely outside, Ann's muscles relaxed and she became more comfortable.

"So they call you Ann, huh?" Swifty asked her, stuffing his hands in his pockets in a way that made him appear eighteen again. "Doesn't that get a little confusing? Ann and Andrew?"

Just like that, the tension returned. It was hard to tell if Swifty meant this sincerely, or if he was trying to make Ann feel guilty talking about Andrew around him. Either way, she answered him. "It gets difficult sometimes, but usually we just laugh at it."

They continued to walk in silence for a bit, neither of them knowing what to say until Ann couldn't stand the quiet any longer. "I have one too, you know," she blurted.

"You what?"

"I have a four-year-old too," she explained. "Her name is Amanda. I also have Alexander. He's three."

Swifty chuckled. "Sticking with the A theme, aren't we?"

Ann nodded. "So what do they call you these days? You said it'd been forever since anyone had called you Swifty."

"My real name's Christopher Doyle," he said with a grin.

"Really? I had always thought you'd have some crazy oriental name that I wouldn't be able to pronounce," Ann laughed.

"Nah, my mother was Asian, but my father was English." He was laughing too, and the barrier between the two of them was broken.

"Ah, that would explain it."

"Most people call me Chris," he continued. "Except for Skitts, he still-" Ann's face must have changed drastically at the mention of the name, for Swifty suddenly regretted saying anything. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking that was stupid of me."

"No, no, its fine," she assured, swallowing her pride. "So how is he?"

The awkwardness reigned once more. "Honestly? Not too good," he told her, obviously not going to hide anything from her. "Well, after we grew up and out of the lodging house, he and I opened the store up."

"Oh, yeah," she said, "S&S means Swifty & Skittery's General Store. Makes sense."

"Yeah, and at first we were doing great. I saved enough to send for Elizabeth and Mary, and soon after, she had Eve.

"But I think the feminine element was hard for Skittery. I mean," he continued, "I'm not going to sugar coat this for you, Midnight. He missed you, whether he'll ever admit it or not. He got sort of depressed, and he gambled and he, well. He visited the girls at the brothels quite a bit. Eventually, his habits sent us into some financial trouble that we're having a tough time getting out of. I mean, I'm not blaming you, but-"

"But Elizabeth is, I'm sure."

Swifty snorted. "Yeah, she doesn't think too fondly of you," he simply stated.

Feeling the need to change the subject, Ann straightened her spine and continued walking. "What about the others?" she asked.

"Others? God, they're all over," he said as he scratched the back of his neck. "Blink and Pink- or Joshua and Sarah, as most people call them these days- are married, of course. Pink's singing at Medda's, and Blink's helping Medda manage the place. They don't have any kids, but I think they're both okay with that.

"Racetrack's working at Sheapshed and is off and on with this one gal who lives in Harlem. Mush moved to Trenton to be with his girl about two years ago. I haven't heard from him since."

"What about Jack? Where's he at?"

"Jack? Jack's uh… he's well-"

Some yelling coming from behind them interrupted Swifty. "Doyle!" someone was crying. "Hey, Swift! I need to talk to you!"

Ann stopped, squeezing her hands together and her eyes shut. She knew exactly who it was, and she was beginning to get annoyed with all this catching up.

Swifty turned around uncomfortably, as he knew who it was as well. "Listen Swift, I've got it all figured out," the unseen man said. Ann had no doubt now; she didn't need to see him to know exactly who was behind her. After a moment of collecting her thoughts, she turned around sharply to face him.

"Good afternoon, Skittery." Her spine was skit-straight and she was calm and level headed as she looked him directly in the eye.

"Hi," he muttered, giving her the slightest of glances. "It's all a matter of investing, Swifty. You just have to-" Stopping short, Skittery paused and looked back at Ann. He squinted and looked her over. Sudden realization washed over him and the same sort of horror she had felt earlier was flooding his face.

"Holy shit. It's you."


	46. Chapter 46: Back to Hell

Closing the door quietly behind her, Ann brushed her fingers across her lips. They quivered uneasily, and served as proof that it had really happened.

What time was it? It had to have been past midnight; Ann's senses were most energized in the early morning, and she was definitely energized now.

She set down her handbag on a small table that was in the entryway, and looked up into the mirror that hung above it. _It didn't happen,_ she told the reflection.

"Ann, is that you?"

Whipping around like a schoolgirl caught in her lies, Anne saw her husband standing at the bottom of the stairs. He had his housecoat on, and looked tired.

"I've been sitting around all night waiting for you," he said gently, although there was a hint of hurt in his tone. "Where've you been?"

Ann walked over to her husband, placing her hand over his where it lay on the banister. "I'm sorry to have worried you, Andrew," she said honestly. "How long have you been home?"

"When I came home from the office around eight o'clock, no one was home, so I checked Laura Simon's place first. She had the children asleep already, but said that you hadn't returned yet. I've been worried sick. What kept you for so long?"

"You wouldn't believe it, Andrew," she said quietly. "I went to the grocer and Pink was there!" Without a moment's pause, Ann supplied an appropriate name and was able to show no sign of it whatsoever. "You do remember Pink, don't you? She was my greatest friend at the Lodging House."

"I recall her," he said warily.

"We were such girlfriends, she was one of the few girls I trusted. It was so nice to see her. We talked, ate lunch together, walked through Central Park, walked by the old lodging house, we ate dinner, we were best friends again!" She sighed. "It was a wonderful day."

It all had happened. Really. Only, it hadn't happened with Pink.

Andrew's nerves softened a bit. "I'm just glad to see you safe, and it's good that you had a nice day. Maybe you could have sent word, however, that you'd be out so late." There was an edge to his voice.

_It didn't happen,_ she reminded herself, smiling up at her husband.

Andrew took her hands in his, and took her upstairs to their bedroom. He then unexpectedly picked her up and carried her over the treshold like a new bride, and layed her down on top of the bed. "Andrew!" she giggled.

"Shh, the children will hear you." He hovered over her, placing small kisses on her eyelids and on her lips. "Please, don't do that ever again, Ann." He stroked her cheek gently. "I can't handle the pain. I can't lose you."

"You wont," she assured him, bringing her arms around his neck and pulling his head down into a kiss. Andrew believed her, and the two of them loved each other gently and sweetly.

When they were done, and Andrew had fallen fast asleep with a smile on his face, Ann was at her true alertness.

She had done her wifely duty and had bedded him, but her heart had broken over it, as she had also been unfaithful. It could be denied for as long as she liked, but the truth remained: Ann had kissed a man other than her husband and she had enjoyed it.

How could such a thing be done to a man so kind and loving as Andrew? Ann shuddered to think of it. But as she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, she knew old demons were back. And they had to be sent to hell where they belonged.


	47. Chapter 47: Demons

The next day, Ann waited patiently until Andrew and the children left for the zoo, and after she had been sure that they were gone, she quickly dressed herself in her primmest, most respectable clothing. Holding her spine erect and her head high, she marched out the door and through the streets that took her to the S&S General Store.

She opened the door to a smiling Skittery, who was helping a customer. It did not pass Ann's perception that he appeared unusually friendly for what Swifty had described his work habits as, but she was not here to pass judgments. She was here to dispel her personal demons.

Skittery excused himself from the elderly customer and walked over to Ann happily. "Midnight," he began.

"It's Ann," she interrupted, the iciness in her voice slicing through his smile. "Ann Kline."

"Mrs. Kline." He bowed and greeted her more formally, his happiness gone. He had no trouble matching her hard expression.

Ann stepped closer and lowered her voice, so as not to let the old woman in on their conversation. "Never forget that I am a married woman, and you are to respect that. What happened yesterday is entirely unacceptable and I am here to make you aware of that."

"You would not have come here simply for that," he said softly, but with his usual edge.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Ann questioned appallingly.

The volume and speed of Skittery's voice began to rise. "You came here because you wanted to see me again!"

"I came here to end whatever may have started! It was you, after all, who kissed me!" she cried.

"You kissed me back!" Skittery exclaimed.

The old woman was a few feet away, obviously hearing the conflict. Ann looked over to the counter, and saw Swifty and Elizabeth frozen in their tracks at the door to the back.

"This is over," she said to Skittery before turning around and walking back out the entryway.

She had only gotten a few feet before she felt an arm at her elbow, turning her to face him. "Stop," he commanded. She did. Small tears began to form at her eyelids, and she though she blinked them away, they did not go unnoticed by Skittery.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "What happened last night was a mistake. It was never my intention to do that to you."

"Thank you," she said softly, looking at her feet instead of up at him. Her high and mighty posture seemed to have left.

"But yesterday was one of the better days in my life, with or without what happened at the end of it," he told her gently.

Ann nodded. "For me too."

Skittery sighed. "Why don't we just forget the kiss ever happened? Can't we do that?"

"I suppose."

"Will you meet me at Tibby's next Saturday at noon? And maybe every Saturday thereafter? I'm a much better man when you're around, Midnight."

"Skittery, I don't think that can work…"

"I promise nothing will happen. We can go see all the others. I'm sure Pink will be thrilled to see how well you've faired." When he could still see the doubt in Ann's eye, he continued. "Midnight, please. I need your friendship. I've been a wreck."

Ann hesitated, but finally made her decision. "Alright. But only for a few hours. I have the children to attend to."

Skittery smiled his boyish smile and wrapped her in a quick hug. Ann was slightly embarrassed, as they were out on the sidewalk for anyone to see. She broke away quickly, and said her goodbyes.

"Until Saturday then," she said curtly.

Skittery just grinned. "Saturday," he agreed.


	48. Chapter 48: The Wife

"Goodnight, Mama," Alexander said happily as he craned his neck to kiss his mother's cheek.

"Sleep well," she told him, returning the favor. She wrapped the blankets tighter around him and went across the room to her daughter's bed.

Amanda sat up as her mother came to her side. "Did you have fun at the zoo today?" Ann asked. She ran her fingers through Amanda's hair lovingly, in that way that only mothers seem to be able to achieve.

"Yes, Mama." The four-year-old spoke so quietly and so softly, and in such a precise way, that it was hardly conceivable that she'd be the young girl she was.

Ann could sense something else on her daughter's mind. "Is something bothering you, Amanda?"

She nodded. "Why didn't you come with us to the zoo today?"

"Well, because I had some things I needed-"

Alexander must have been listening, because his little voice surfaced through his bed sheets. "Because she's the girl. She's supposed to stay home and clean things. It's her job."

"Not exactly, Alex, I do-"

Amanda's brow furrowed as she looked at her mother. "Is that true, Mama? It's your job to clean?"

"Some days I suppose it is," Ann told her, finding herself rather uncomfortable in the presence of her own children. "But I also cook, and I spend time with you two and your father."

"That doesn't seem like it would be a lot of fun," Amanda decided softly.

"Oh, it's not so bad." Ann stood up and ushered her daughter under the covers, and after tucking the small girl in and saying goodnight, she blew out the candles and shut the door behind her.

What had just happened? Being a parent was not small task, and Ann learned this more and more every day. She couldn't help but realize that she was the exact thing that she had disliked so much only a few years earlier. She was submitting to the will of someone else, and that didn't please her. But what was she supposed to say to Amanda? That being their mother was the most degrading thing that's ever happened to Ann? She wouldn't, because it really wasn't, at least, not until she thought about it.

Ann walked downstairs and headed towards the kitchen. She passed by the parlor on her way there, and saw her husband sitting in his favorite armchair. He was reading _The Odyssey_ for what was likely to be the eighth time, and sipping at a small glass of port. Ann paused in the doorframe to look at him for a moment.

He was eleven years her senior, but until now, he never showed it. He always had a youthful smile and a full head of golden hair and a fresh face. As Ann looked at him now, however, she saw the signs of his thirty-four years. His hair had begun to show a few gray hairs on the sides of his head. His face was lined with remnants of all the smiles and furrows over the years. But even through all this, he was still as handsome as ever. He was still her husband.

He was still her husband, and therefore still her master. And yes, was also her lover, best friend, and partner wrapped all into one, but she was unable to get her mind past the fact that he was her master. She was, essentially, nothing more than a glorified slave.

Andrew took his eyes off of his book for a moment and finally noticed Ann's presence. "Hello, darling. How long have you been standing there?"

"Only a few moments," she told him with a shrug.

He set down his book and patted his lap, beckoning Ann to sit with him. Though the face around it had, the smile itself had not changed one bit, and it was still able to produce a rather unsettling effect on Ann's nerves.

Despite all her insecurities, Ann followed his command. She went and snuggled herself right on top of Andrew's lap. "And what can Father Christmas get for you this year, little girl?" he asked her playfully.

Ann smiled and kissed him. She felt as young and carefree and in love as she did back when she was still living in the lodging house.

A sick feeling hit the bottom of her stomach. Here she was, kissing her husband, when she had promised another man to meet with him every Saturday. She might as well be branded with the scarlet letter right now.

But she had promised Skittery, and she really did enjoy her time with him.

Ann broke away from him and laid her head down on his shoulder. "I know what I want," she said softly.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" Andrew turned his head to look at her, and he was smiling. He was thinking she wanted something a little more intimate.

She sat up and looked at him from a better angle. "I had such a great day with Pink yesterday. I've really missed her." She was lying to him, and the feeling in her stomach got a little worse with every word. "Do you think it would be alright if she and I met for lunch every Saturday? Had some girl time, just the two of us?"

Andrew was obviously hoping for something else, and for a second his smile appeared to droop a little. Then he realized a way to twist it back his way, and his smile came back full force. "Maybe I'll let you, if you're a good girl." His hand slid down her side slowly, but he kept his eyes trained on her, the devilish gleam sparkling in them.

"I believe what you're asking me to do would put me on the naughty list, would it not?"

Andrew nuzzled her ear and whispered to her, "I really don't care which list it puts you on."

Shivers went down Ann's back. "Well in that case," she said as she attempted to pull herself up and off his lap.

Hands went straight to her waist to keep her seated. "Where do you think you're going?" he questioned her with that same devilish smile.

"Upstairs," Ann said, not understanding why he wouldn't follow her. "To bed," she added.

"What's wrong with right here?"

Ann's jaw dropped. "Here? Now?" Her husband shrugged. "Andrew, I just put the children down. They're probably not sleeping yet; they could walk in any minute!"

"Well, we'll just have to hope that doesn't happen, won't we?" When Ann still didn't appear okay with this, he continued jokingly. "Come on, Ann, be a good wife."

Ann couldn't help but laugh despite herself. Andrew took her chin in his hand and kissed her again.

Ann did let him have her, right there in his favorite armchair in their parlor, but not without some regret. Lovemaking anywhere other than a proper bed was something that two-bit whores were good for. A wife should be respected enough to deserve a bed, and Ann should have demanded a bed. But she didn't. She submitted to the will of her husband, as a good and proper wife should.

Every day, just like with raising children, Ann learned new things about being a good wife. And every day, she found it to be harder and harder.


	49. Chapter 49: Unsolved Problem

"So why groceries?" Ann asked as she sipped her iced tea in Tibby's. "What made you decide you wanted to open a grocery store?"

Skittery laughed and ran a hand over his slightly unshaven jaw. "God, I don't even remember. I think it was Swift's idea. I had zero plans for after the Lodging House, that when he asked if I wanted in on it, I was just happy to have a clue."

He hadn't really changed much in five years, Ann decided. Yes, he had aged some- his skin wasn't as smooth and the bags under his eyes that never existed before had somehow formed- but there was still that same boyish grin and that annoying devilish gleam. His hair still stuck up in the same places, and he still had his same cocky pessimism. 

"Did I miss any big drama?"

One of those brown eyebrows shot up towards the sky. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Ann shrugged. "There was always something interesting going on at the Lodging House. He had some dark secret past, she was a runaway rich girl who wanted the simple life, he loved the spunky Irish girl, and she was raped by the Delancy's… You know. Drama. Anything happen?"

"I don't remember much after you left," he said simply. 

Ann felt the weight of that comment. She quickly avoided that death trap. "Whatever happened to Gin and Shrimp? Do you know?"

"Uh, I think Shrimp's still sellin', and Gin, well, Gin died." Skittery squirmed a little bit in his seat. 

"Died? How?"

"She hung herself in the attic. Left a note for Shrimp, but no one could understand the handwriting except for the kid."

Ann was stunned. "My god," she whispered. "And with her parents and everything…" Ann trailed off, reminiscing to herself.

Skittery overheard, and leaned forward. "What about her parents?"

"Didn't she ever tell anyone?" 

"No, that was a mystery that no one seemed to know, even Shrimp."

"Well, she told me one day. I guess her father killed her mother, and Gin woke up to find her father with a shotgun, and he put her back to bed. Then, he pulled his wife into their bed with him, and killed himself. In the morning, Gin was the one who woke up and found them."

"Jesus Christ," Skittery muttered. "But then why would Gin do that to Shrimp?"

Ann shrugged. "Gin didn't cry over it at the time. It seemed like the sort of thing that had toughened her. God, what was it she said to me?" Ann paused to remember what it was. "Ah yes! She said, 'Life is hell, Midnight. People die, people break our hearts and people leave us forever. And that's never going to change. We all just have to suck it up and deal with it.'"

"What are you saying? I don't get why that would explain why Gin would inflict the same trauma on Shrimp."

"Shrimp was always so naïve and innocent. I wouldn't be surprised if Gin felt that Shrimp needed to grow up some."

"But to give up your life to teach a kid a lesson? That's a little melodramatic."

"I don't know," Ann said with a motherly smile. "I would give up my life for my kids, if I felt they needed to learn an important lesson. Even if it would be traumatic." 

The mention of Ann's kids brought some weight to the conversation. There was moment of silence before Skittery continued.

"So what did she do that made him kill her?"

"Who?"

"Gin's mom. What made him kill her?"

"Oh." Ann thought about it for a moment, and then replied. "She had an affair with another man."

The second it was said, she wished it hadn't been. That heaviness was multiplied by about a thousand, and the same thought entered both their minds at once. 

Skittery stood up quickly and slapped a few coins down on the table to cover the sodas. "I, uh, I need a smoke," he said hurriedly. "Need one?"

He was holding out a cigarette for Ann to take. "Oh, god, no. I quit before Amanda was born. Andrew didn't think it was ladylike."

Retracting his arm and rolling his eyes, he said, "Well, will you walk with me while I smoke, then?"

Ann stood, straightening her hat, and followed him out of the restaurant. 

Once outside, Skittery offered Ann his arm to steady herself by, as per etiquette. Unfortunately, instead of assuring her of his intents towards polite interaction, this act instead forced the awkwardness to blanket them heavily once more.

Ann looked warily towards Skittery's extended elbow, and was hesitant about taking it. Any sort of cordial interaction could invite even more friendly action, and then from there, who knows where it might lead! It was much safer to keep to oneself. 

Skittery smirked and looked at her knowingly. "It's just an elbow, Ann. I won't bite, I promise."

Firm in her belief, Ann declined politely. "It's not the bite that I fear, but rather, the aftermath of said bite." He seemed to know what she meant, and he ruefully withdrew his offer.

"God, Midnight," he said, ignoring her scornful glance at the use of her nickname. "What other things have you done to change yourself?"

Laying a hand on her small hat to insure its presence, Ann looked straight forward as she spoke softly. "Surely, I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, come off it," he said with that devilish grin. "You know what I'm saying. You're different. You don't smoke, you're polite, you never raise your voice, even if you're fighting you're cordial about it, you're willing to give your life for someone else, you're compassionate, you're submissive, you're- well, you're Ann. What happened to Midnight?"

Surprisingly enough, there wasn't an edge to Skittery's comment. He was stating everything as fact, and questioning her as though a scientific man would. It dawned on Ann that she was an unsolved problem to Skittery. And maybe, if she could answer his problem, she might be able to dispel his attachment to her. 

"Midnight was young," Ann explained. "She thought only about herself, and didn't believe that anyone was any different. She was sure that everyone only cared about himself, and therefore, no one would ever care about her or love her or need her. I had to grow out of that, and if that meant changing who I was, then so be it."

"I needed you," Skittery stated simply, but not without a tinge of hurt.

"But how was I to know for sure, Skittery? After all, I assumed that you only thought about yourself, and you just wanted me because I was the other woman. What would I have done if someone else had come along for you to amuse yourself with? And Andrew had proven that he had loved me and needed me; I wasn't so sure with you."

Skittery chuckled cynically. "Maybe you tell yourself that, but you know that's not it."

"What are you trying to say?" Ann became offended.

He continued talking, but not in an aggravated way. His words came out as though they were unbiased fact. "You never opened yourself up to being loved, by yourself let alone anyone else. It couldn't have been an issue of love or need; you refused to consider that anyone _could_ love you."

"Well what was it then, Skittery, since you know so much about me. If it wasn't love or need that influenced my decision, what on earth could it have been?"

"Wealth," he told her point-blank. "You had never been comfortable and settled down. And strangely enough, it was something you craved more than I could have ever known.

"Think about it. You stole for money, so that one day, you could live a comfortable life. That haunted place that you hid me in the first day I ever met you, well, I think that was one way you had tried to settle yourself down, even if it was at a young age."

Ann was baffled by his observations. If anything, she felt that she disliked her current settling self. Could it ever have been possible that she did crave it?

He refused to stop, even venturing further than the acceptable boundaries. "You convinced yourself you loved him because you wanted to settle down. But don't be hard on yourself, you didn't understand love, it was easy for you to mistake it. Well, it still is easy for you, but the rest of us, I'm not so sure-"

Ann stopped abruptly, cutting the conversation short. "I think it's about time for me to be returning home to my husband and children. I shall see you at noon next Saturday. Good day, Skittery."

Behind her, Skittery finally lit that cigarette, and silently watched her go.


	50. Chapter 50: Rain

Her feet hit the wet cobblestones viciously. Who did he think he was? Who was he to pass judgment on her life, when he was far from perfect himself?

He was moody; he was selfish. He was childish, self-indulgent- he was poor, judgmental, temperamental, and… and he was maddeningly sure of himself! Well, she'd change that.

Ann shoved her way past the few people who were out during this storm, without muttering an apology or even bothering to raise her eyes to meet theirs. A regression had taken place, sending Ann back to her days of stubborn indignation. She was pushing herself further down the dark rainy street towards her destination.

Unlaced boots sloshed through puddles, and rainwater soaked through the two layers of clothing she was wearing. But she hardly noticed, she just barreled through until the wooden sign for the S & S General Store appeared above her.

"Swifty!" she yelled boomingly as she pounded on the locked door to the grocery. "Come out here!"

Soon enough, a small orange light scurried through the store and Swifty was there at the open door, shushing her. "Midnight, quiet the girls are sleeping," he whispered.

"For the last goddamn time, Swift, it's Ann!" She neglected to drop her volume.

"Alright, alright!" Swifty muttered. "Come inside, get out of the-"

"No. Tell me where he lives."

Swifty stopped his shuffle inside and eyed Ann warily. "What would you be needing that information for, at three in the morning, wearing nothing but a nightgown and a jacket?"

"Tell me," Ann whispered vigorously.

"I won't. I won't have you going and risking your reputation. Come back in the morning and we'll talk-"

"Three blocks east and a block north," a new voice said quietly from the shadows. Elizabeth stepped forward into the light and avoided Swifty's disapproving glare. "Third floor."

Ann should have been irritated by the fact that Elizabeth only revealed this information after Swifty mentioned the question of her reputation, but Ann couldn't help but feel differently. Whether it was from the information or simply the candlelight, Elizabeth had never looked quite so beautiful to Ann before.

"Thank you," Ann whispered, holding Elizabeth's gaze for a moment longer before heading east.


	51. Chapter 51: Candles

"Skittery!" Ann was standing at the third level of the old apartment building, but was unsure of which room was his. So she went to the first door and started banging. "Come out, it's Ann, I have something to say to you!"

A voice to her right startled her. "Ann?" She turned the direction only to see Skittery's head poked out of the apartment a few over.

"Wha? What's the matter?" a groggy, old voice said in front of her. "Who the hell are you?"

Ann straightened herself up before turning back to look at the owner of the door she had been banging on. "I'm sorry to wake you," she told him curtly before storming off towards Skittery.

Skittery leaned against his doorframe and smiled that smile that used to twist Ann's stomach. "Ann, you're drenched. And, not so properly dressed, might I-"

A slap across the face stopped him short and wiped that smirk off of his lips. "How dare you tell me I don't understand love! How dare you belittle me, and- and tell me I don't know a thing about my own life!" She started to cry angrily. "I know what love is and I know what it can do and how it can hurt when it's unreturned. How dare you condescend my decision to choose a man who had proven his love!"

"And how exactly was I supposed to prove my love for you?" he asked bitterly. "Write you a damn sonnet like that Shakespeare guy you loved to read? Buy you a nice house and give you some nice kids? How about just have an extra dollar or two lying around? What does all that prove? That he's rich! What did he ever do to prove he loved you more than I did?"

Ann was speechless. She hadn't thought past her yelling at him; how was she supposed to be prepared to answer his questions?

"Skittery, I didn't come here to argue about my choice," she stuttered.

"Then what did you come here for?" His eyes wandered down to her clothing.

"Nothing of that sort, I assure you," Ann's eyes became hard. "I- I couldn't attmept sleep a minute longer letting you think that you had me all figured out."

"I don't think that's the truth."

"Why don't you enlighten me, oh great one?" She spat out bitterly.

The smirk returned to his face, this time accompanied by a flicker of malice. Ann's bitterness began to melt slightly. "What did he do to win you back, all those years ago?" He considered it for a moment, and then, "Ah yes, he came back after a year and kissed you. Well, I've got him beat by about four years now, haven't I?"

And quickly, fiercely, he kissed her. That kiss the other night had been an accident, a fleeting touch of lips, nothing like this. There was more than just desire to his touch; there was a long pent up yearning. Five years worth of dreaming of this moment was passing through that kiss.

And Ann found herself returning it.

Suddenly, she didn't care about anything. Not about her reputation, not about Andrew, not about her family, not about her anger. All that mattered was this moment, the moment that she, too, had been secretly dreaming of for five years. He had been right. Without even realizing it, she had a different motive for coming.

Running her hands over his bare chest that had gone previously unnoticed, she snaked her fingers up to the base of his head and twining her fingers in the hair there.

Without breaking the kiss, Skittery grabbed Ann's legs and hoisted them around his waist. Her brain knew where this was heading, but both her heart and her instincts told her to stay. And she now understood that she had to trust them both.

Kicking the door shut behind them, Skittery pressed her against a nearby wall, keeping her around him. Ann's fingers found their way down to the top of his long johns, and before she could get any further, Skittery broke the kiss.

"You're sure then?" he asked her breathlessly.

"Just get me to a bed before my reasoning catches up with the rest of me," she pleaded.

He obeyed, and soon, Ann felt a soft bed beneath her. It was still warm, presumably from Skittery just getting out of it only minutes earlier.

Suddenly, he was off of her, and she sat up to see him down at the foot of the bed, slowly taking off each muddy boot off of her feet. More slowly still, he lightly kissed the tips of each of her toes, and traced a trail up her right shin. When he reached the bloomers just above her knee, he rolled the fabric up, inch at a time, continuing his route, until he came to the point where the fabric refused to roll any further. It was then that he pulled off her bloomers, and finished the trail with a kiss on the inside of her thigh, as far up her leg as he could manage. The sensation brought about the greatest feelings Ann had ever experienced.

Either he had done this before, or Skittery had this in mind for a very long time.

Ann sat straightly then, and pulled off Andrew's jacket, before slowly lifting her nightdress above her head, all the while, never raising her eyes from his face. There was no turning back now. She was convinced; this was the man Ann had loved all along.

She watched him take in every inch of her naked body. The candle was still flickering on the nightstand to her left. It was by that feeble light that Ann noted the moisture in Skittery's eyes as he did so.

She leaned forward and kissed those eyelids lightly before laying down on her back. Skittery leaned forward, but before coming any further, he reached over and blew the candle out.


	52. Chapter 52: Coexist

Morning light began to creep above the buildings as Ann walked slowly through the puddles. The storm had passed, leaving behind a dewy scent to the air, and blanketing the world with a strange calm. Mere hours earlier, the wet and cold had lashed Ann's face as she thundered through the streets, but now, she was in no hurry to get anywhere.

Andrew would be waiting, and for that reason she continued forward. She would tell him the truth, she decided; or, the truths that were convenient, that is. She would tell him that she woke up around three, and after being unable to get back to sleep, she went out to get some fresh air. The rain started, she would say, and being lost, she decided to wait the storm out under a store front awning before trying to get back home.

The time Ann spent with Skittery lasted little over an hour, but it was more than enough. She had been with men before; there was no denying that. Not only did she have her rather shady past, but she also had two children as evidence of this fact. But it astounded Ann how new it all was during her first time with Skittery. The world was just so different with-

"Buy me first pape, lady?"

A dirty newsboy pulled Ann out of her reverie, although not necessarily unwelcome. Her smile spread wider on her face as she cocked her head sideways to look at him.

He could be no more than six years younger than her. About the age when Ann had joined the force, however unwillingly at the time. He must be nearing the end of his career in the headlines business, though, because his voice was rather low when compared to those of the regular newsboys. Ann wondered if he'd miss it when he's through.

"It's fresh off the press, see? Ink's still wet an' everythin'." He showed her one of his hands before retracting it and muttering to himself, "Not that you'd be able to see that on my fingers anyway."

Ann shoved one of her own formerly ink stained hands into the pocket of her husband's coat. Without looking at it, she tossed him the only coin she found, and took the paper. Hoping to God that it was more than a penny, she told him to keep the change and continued on her way home.

She missed newsie life. Maybe not the life, she reasoned, but the people in it. Which is why she made Skittery promise to take her to see Pink next Saturday. One way or another, Ann needed to add these people back into her life.

The only problem would be figuring out how she would handle both the old and the new. After thinking about it, she decided that she would be Andrew's complacent wife from Sunday to Friday. She would be the kind, caring, and affectionate mother during the week, and would be very happy to do so. She loved her family, and it might hurt for her to leave on Saturday mornings, even if it would be for just one day. But after leaving, she would change. Not back to Midnight, but to a more youthful Ann. She would forget about pasts, she would forget about futures, she would forget about any sense of consequences; for one day, she would live for the moment, come what may. But afterwards, she would return to her life with Andrew, knowing that more than a day could force her to lose all judgment. One day would be enough, and it would be harmless.

After all, what damage can one day do?

Puddles splashed playfully at her feet, and Ann couldn't help but giggle a little. here she had found a way to be both Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde all at once, never mind which side was which. She could be the right woman for both Andrew and Skittery, and the thought excited her.

A glimmer of hope began to shine; maybe she had found the way to true happiness. It was suddenly possible that she could be both Ann and Midnight at once, and she wouldn't ever be forced to choose one or the other.

Looking nearly insane to anyone who happened to be on that particular street that morning, Ann skipped home giddily, ready to begin her new coexistence.


	53. Chapter 53: The Good Life

"Do they know I'm coming

"Do they know I'm coming?" Ann asked excitedly as she smoothed out the creases in her skirt.

"They know I'm coming," Skittery told her. "I don't think they'll even recognize you."

Ann could see Medda's sign poking over rooftops ahead of her. She was strangely nervous to see everyone again. Would Pink remember her? Would she be angry? How would Blink react? Blink was always a good natured guy; he would welcome her. What really scared her was Jack. He wasn't too happy with her the last time they met; can time mend broken bridges?

"Lemme introduce you, alright? I want to test them a little…" Skittery had that gleam in his eye and that grin on his face that made Ann tempted to skip the day's activities altogether. She blushed slightly at the alternative plans her brain conjured up.

Skittery ushered her towards the stage entrance rather than go through the lobby. It was a little before noon, but the matinee crowd could be pressing to get in already. Backstage, performers were milling about, preparing for the day's double shows. No one seemed to notice the two of them walk in; everyone was too busy going about their own business to care.

"You ready?" he asked, twining his fingers between hers.

Ann glanced down at her hand and smiled. Her nerves vanished as she looked back into his eyes and nodded. Skittery returned the grin, and cocked his head in the direction of the stage.

Before she knew it, he had dragged her out onto the brightly lit stage at Medda's. It took a second for her eyes to adjust, but Skittery already had his free hand over his eyes as he searched the room for their friends. Ann copied the gesture, and suddenly everything was visible.

Back in the day, Ann had gone to many lengths to avoid this place. But now, she found it hard to remember exactly why. Sure, there had been that incident with Hammer, but there were many incidents with him, and she never avoided those places. It suddenly dawned on Ann that Midnight hadn't wanted to be given any opportunity to enjoy herself.

Well, not anymore.

"Skittery!" A sharp squeal erupted to their left. A tall blonde woman was rushing towards them from the backstage area, wrapping her long arms around Skittery's neck. Ann stepped back to watch as a man with an eye patch made his way up onto the stage, laughing heartily.

Blink shook Skittery's hand, exchanging the usual how've-you-been comments. Then Blink noticed Ann standing there, and cocked an eyebrow in her direction. "Got a girl now, have ya?"

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Skittery pulled Ann up next to him. "Something like that, yeah," he chuckled. "Ann, these are some old friends of mine, Sarah and Joshua Cary. Sarah's a singer…"

Ann tuned him out when she looked over at Pink, who for someone who supposedly wouldn't recognize her, was looking at Ann with a very curious expression. Ann held the gaze warily, afraid of what Pink would do if she recalled her face.

Sarah Cary shook her head slowly as it dawned on her. Skittery was still talking to Blink as Pink muttered, "I can't believe it's actually you…"

"What?" Blink turned to his wife to see what the trouble was, and after following her gaze, began to look more closely at the woman standing there. It hit him, too. "Midnight?!"

Skittery chuckled. "I had really thought it would take them longer," he said to Ann.

"Hi guys," she greeted, laughing to herself.

The Carys launched themselves at Ann, laughing and greeting her. This was definitely a warmer welcome then she had been expecting.

"When did you two get together?"

"What about that detective?"

"Where've you been?"

Skittery stepped in and put a hand on Blink's shoulder. "Why don't we not attack her with questions right away, hm?" Ann shot him a glance of gratitude; she didn't know exactly how to tell them that she wasn't back altogether.

"So, where is everyone?" He saved the day once again by changing the subject.

"Race is comin' over tonight, Swift should be here soon, and we didn't know where to look for Mush…" Blink began to explain as the group started moving off the stage.

Ann stayed where she was. "When's Jack coming?" she asked.

The air suddenly became heavy. Her friends stopped in their tracks and looked warily at each other. "She doesn't know?!" Pink hissed.

"Know what?" Ann took a step forward as her chest began to tighten, preparing for what might be to come.

Skittery cleared his throat before turning around and walking back towards Ann slowly. "Ann, Jack's not coming," he told her.

"And why not?"

He took her hands. "Jack died. About three years ago. The doctor said he had a bad heart."

_No._

Ann had never experienced this sort of shock. Jack couldn't die; it wasn't a possibility. Or if he did, it should be doing something heroic. A bad heart? That wasn't right.

Memories flashed before Ann's eyes. Two Truths, One Lie. Spit-shaking at Tibby's. The train station. The Lodging House.

"_Have a good life, Girl."_ That was the last thing he ever said to her. He had been an older brother too them all, always looking after them. Even when she abandoned him, he had hoped for the best for her.

"Oh, god."


	54. Chapter 54: Sorrow

She sat there, her hands folded around a warmed glass of beer, staring into the rising bubbles

She sat there, her hands folded around a warmed glass of beer, staring into the rising bubbles. She was vaguely aware of the crowd, of Skittery's protective arm around her shoulder, and of the sound of Pink's voice entertaining the masses, but her attention never strayed from the amber liquid in front of her.

His voice rang in her ears. _"Have a good life, Girl."_ The phrase repeated over and over again in her brain, slowly carving its claim into her skull.

Ann hadn't cried yet. She had experienced one of the largest shocks of her life, and hadn't felt this amount of sorrow in a great while, but she wasn't able to mourn. Something was holding her back from letting out the flood of emotions she was sure was within her.

_Why?_ She asked herself as she concentrated on her drink. In her Midnight days, she had concealed her emotions from everyone, believing them to be displays of weakness, but she still knew when something struck a chord. As a child, she cried almost daily. Now, a grown woman with a family of her own, she found herself very easily moved to tears. Ann knew what she should have been feeling; so why wasn't she feeling it?

She began to perceive that her friends were talking about her. She recognized Race's harsh voice despite his attempts to soften it. "How's she doing?"

Skittery's voice next to her answered his question. "She hasn't said much. Just sat here." There was a strain of worry in his voice, and Ann wished she could assure him that she'd be all right. But in order to do that, she had to convince herself of it first.

"It must be hard," Swifty's soft, calm voice entered Ann's ear. She hadn't even realized he had arrived yet. "We all had a proper goodbye with Jack. To have this all just dropped on her…"

A proper goodbye. Her goodbye to the man who had been her older brother was abandonment. She had left Jack and Skittery and Swifty and the rest of them behind, never to see them again. To pretend that they didn't exist. Almost as if…

As if they had died.

That was it! There was her answer. She wasn't able to mourn Jack now because she had already done that five years ago. She had long ago accepted the fact that she might never see him again, and now that it was true, it wasn't more time with him that she wanted- it was his memory to be honored.

_Have a good life, Girl._ And now, she was determined to do just that, if not for herself, then for Jack's sake.

What would Jack have defined a 'good life' as? Ann knew he would have wished for her to stay with the Newsies. So he would have approved of her new relationship with Skittery. But she also knew that Jack had told her that when she left Skits, she was leaving all of them, and that Jack wouldn't go back on something like that easily. So he would have wanted her to stay with Andrew, because that was the route she had chosen. And she knew he definitely wouldn't approve of her strange double life…

"I need to go." Ann stood up suddenly, a little shaky from being a frozen statue for the last hour, but managed to pull together enough strength to push her way towards the door.

Skittery was right beside her though. "Where are you going?" His hand held her elbow only slightly, but the touch was enough to stop her momentarily.

"Home, Skittery. I need to go home." She needed to get away from things for a while, to readjust her brain.

It hurt her to see the pain that passed through Skittery's eyes, but she was firm in her resolution. After a moment's consideration, he nodded. "I understand. I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Ann told him before hugging him and turning to leave.

"I'll see you next week then," Skittery called after her.

No. She needed a Saturday to herself. But, rather than hurt him more right now, she ignored him and continued pushing her way through the crowd.

When she finally reached her house, Ann felt exhausted. She paused in the entryway to look at her reflection in the mirror but was interrupted by her husband.

"What are you doing home so early?" He asked her with a smile. "What happened to your day with Pink?" She turned to look at him, and his smile dropped as he saw the hurt on her face. "Ann?"

Suddenly, Ann bolted across the room to her husband and buried her head in his chest. A few tears formed themselves and speckled his shirt.

"Jack died, Andrew."

She continued to cry into his shirt as he held her, stroking her hair as he would with Amanda. "There, there," he told her. "It'll be all right. I'm sorry. God, can you ever forgive me?"

Forgive him? Ann pulled herself away from his shirt to look up at her husband. "Forgive you? For what?"

Andrew wiped a tear from her cheek. "For taking you away from the friends and family you loved. I'm so selfish. I'm sorry."

He tried to wrap his arms around her again, but she fought his embrace this time. "Andrew, I chose this. Don't you dare blame yourself for any of it. I chose you."

His lips tightened into a forced grin. "And you never regret your choice?"

Ann was appalled. Not only did he question her, he thought he already knew the answer! "Andrew Kline, there has not been one moment that I have ever regret choosing you. I can't believe that you would even let that thought enter your head. I love you." She looked up into his eyes and knew it was true. "I love you."

After a moment, Andrew sighed a breath of relief and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry. I love you, too."

"Andrew?" Ann asked him as they stood there holding each other. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Hm?"

"Would you find out where Jack is buried? I'd like to pay my respects."

"Of course."


	55. Chapter 55: Graves

**Author's Note: **Alright folks. Here's an update! Sorry for the complete lack lately; there are only a few chapters left to be completed, and there's a large part of me that's afraid to finish this story, as it has been in my life for so long. But then there is the other part that really wants it do be whole and complete, so here's the final stretch. This is the beginning of the end.

She walked slowly through the rows of graves. With each approaching headstone, a gripping fear strangled Ann's chest as she prayed that this one would not be his. Each time, the lock on her ribcage would release when she found that it was indeed someone else's, only to reclaim her when she realized that the next one could be it.

What would it say? Would the headstone read Jack Kelly, or would it bear his true name, Francis Sullivan? Ann had no clue which name to be looking for, or even the dates to confirm with if she found either of them.

More importantly, what would she say? What words can possibly express what she felt? How can she make things right between-

_Francis "Jack Kelly" Sullivan._

Ann's heart stopped. This small cross with four names etched into the cross bar was without doubt the marker for Jack's grave. There was no more time to prepare herself for the moment- this was the big show.

She set down the small bouquet of wildflowers down next to the cross and cleared her throat. She didn't speak, however. She merely stood there, struggling to find the appropriate words.

What was it about standing at someone's grave that makes one feel obligated to speak out loud? Ann glanced around her and noticed that there was at least five people who were speaking to a departed loved one. What were they saying? How things have been? How much the departed one is missed? Justifying? Apologizing?

"I married him, you know." Her words came out scratchy and coarse. They seemed to tumble out of her mouth without her conscious consent. But, like the snowball that becomes an avalanche, she was unable to stop.

"I love him, really I do. He's understanding, and compassionate, and loving, and reliable, and kind. I can't imagine my life without him. I know that's really not what you'd like to hear, Jack, but it's true. He's the perfect husband.

"We have two children," she continued. "My oldest, Amanda, is such a joy. She's quiet and reserved, the perfect picture of a little lady. So pretty, too. You would have just loved her, I'm sure of it. You would melt like butter under the pressure of that small grin of hers. The infamous Jack Kelly brought down by a small four year old."

Ann's smile eased her awkwardness, and suddenly it became much easier to talk. "My younger one, Alexander, is a joy. Always bouncing off the walls, that one. Has more energy than I know what to do with. A lot of self-assurance, really. He seems to think that at his mature age of three that he knows everything there is to know, and is rather smug about it. A bit like you, actually."

She found herself laughing then, much to her surprise. Laughing? At a grave? However stunned she was by the morbidity of it, Ann could not force herself to care. This was the way that things were supposed to be between her and Jack. She had had too many unhappy endings to let this one haunt her.

So she kept talking as though her friend was standing right there with her. "I know, I know. You really don't want to hear about my life with 'him.' In fact, you really don't want to hear anything about my life. What was it you said that day? 'You chose to leave us as well,' and 'that means no coming back, gone forever. You're done. For good.' Well. Here I am, Cowboy.

"But you should know that I'm not entirely gone. Skittery and I are back together, in a way. It's sort of like back in the day when Skits was with Abigail, only this time it's me who's got the partner we're hiding from. I remember how horrible that was; I'm sorry to have to put Skittery through the same torture.

"I'm so selfish at times, Jacky," Ann kept talking. "Here I am, with two men at once, and for different reasons. Andrew is as good a friend and husband I could have ever asked for. He's a wonderful father, and is so good to me. But I don't think I love him. I don't think I really loved him the day I decided to leave Skittery for him either. I think I just wanted that stability he offered, and the chance to finally live a normal life. And fuck you, Jack, if you knew that all along!" She laughed at how absurd the word sounded coming out of her mouth. It had probably been years since Ann had used language like that.

"But you know, how do I know I love Skittery? Just because I say the words doesn't make it true. Maybe I just like the thrill. Maybe I like feeling like a newsie again, being around Skits and the gang.

"I feel like I live two very different lives. Neither one of them is complete, neither one of them is whole. Ann and Midnight are two separate people. I had thought I could make it work being both of them, but it's not as easy as that. What Midnight wants is what Ann doesn't want, and what Ann desires, Midnight hates. I'm constantly in battle with myself."

Ann paused to let this sink into her own brain before pressing the thought further. She stood there for another minute or so, and then continued.

"Jack, the last thing you said to me was to have a good life. Well, neither of my lives have been good thus far, simply satisfactory. I'm done with that. This isn't the good life. This has never been the good life. But I think I know what needs to be done in order to find it again. If I never come back here again, know that I've found my happiness. I'll be living in your memory, Jack. Forever and always."

Ann leaned forward and kissed the warm stone cross, feeling like it was the appropriate thing to do in a final goodbye. And with that, she left Jack's grave with a cleared mind and a direct path towards happiness.

All around her, people grieved and mourned and caught up with loved ones. They're so afraid to let go of the past; this woman cries over her child who died in birth years ago; that man weaps for his mother; the old gentleman over there laughs it up with his deceased wife, knowing that soon enough they will be together again. So much time is spent dwelling on the past, when it does no good. There is no way to move back in time, we can only move forward. And Ann is finally ready to move forward.


	56. Chapter 56: Shedding Skins

Ann paused outside her house. This wasn't going to be easy, but she knew it had to be done. In order to move forward, Ann had to do it, so she buried all outward signs of remorse. It was crucial to make him hate her, or else he would never let her leave.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the front door of her house and walked in. "Ann, is that you?"

"Yes," she called in reply. "Where are you?"

"In the parlor!"

Ann didn't bother removing her shoes or setting down her purse. She walked forward towards the parlor at the back of the house with her head held high, spine erect.

Andrew was sitting on his favorite chair, with both Amanda and Alexander on his lap. He had a book out and was reading to them.

He lifted his head when Ann walked in. "Hello, darling. How was the cemetery?"

Ann smiled. "Full of people from the past and the people mourning them." She cleared her throat before continuing. "Andrew, may I speak with you?"

Her husband shifted his weight in his chair, as though to position himself to better listen. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

"Maybe it would be better if we spoke in the kitchen," she told him, aiming glances at the children.

Andrew's face suddenly clouded with worry. "Yes, alright, I suppose." He fully understood that if something needed to be said out of earshot of the children, that it was not something that would be easily dealt with. And he couldn't have been more right.

"Amanda, sweetheart, would you be an angel and put a way these books that we're not reading?" Andrew motioned toward a pile of books sitting on the floor next to his chair as he got up. "I'll be back in a minute and we can continue reading. Alexander, help your sister."

Ann led the way into the kitchen, and her husband followed obediently. It wasn't until the door was safely closed behind him that he rushed over to her.

"What's wrong, Ann? Are you alright?" he said as he cupped her elbows with his hands.

The look on his face was one that Ann knew she would never forget. There was her husband, worried and concerned for her well-being. She knew that he would do anything to remedy what it was that was bothering her, and Ann found herself trapped by this spell he didn't even know he had over her. This was the moment she knew would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Slowly, her hand found its way up to his face, knowing that it would be the last time it would ever do so. With her thumb, she followed the lines of his face, ironing out every crease and wrinkle that had formed there. This face softened with her touch, and it was when he closed his concerned eyes that she recalled her purpose.

With her hand still cupping his cheek and a warm smile on her lips, she whispered, "Andrew. I'm leaving."

And with that, the spell was broken. Andrew's eyes popped open and he took a small step backwards, away from her touch. "What?" His eyebrows began to furrow as his mind raced through the logical reasons why Ann would leave. "What do you mean?"

Knowing well that she was about to deliver the lethal blow, she held her calm demeanor. All the while, the part of her she still called Ann was crying out inside of her. But she wasn't going to allow any of it shine through. "I'm going to be with Skittery," she told him.

The news hit Andrew like a punch to the stomach. Then his pride began to take over, and he looked her square in the eyes. "How do you know he'll take you back?" he asked her quietly. However quiet the question may have been, there was no denying the intended venom in it.

But she just smiled. "Andrew, Andrew. How could you not have seen it?" she cooed. _Make him hate you,_ she reminded herself. "It was never Pink I was meeting with every week. It was Skittery. I love him, Andrew. And I'm going to be with him."

Andrew's eyes turned to stone. "And the children?" he spat at her. "Do you mean to say you're leaving them?"

The smile left her lips then. She couldn't hide her true feelings on this subject. "It's for the best, really. I don't deserve to be their mother." She swallowed the lump in her throat, and when she looked back up at Andrew, the spiteful smile was back on her face. "Besides, my mother left me, and I learned valuable lessons from it. They'll be fine."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Andrew Kline met her with a steely glare. "Then you tell them you're leaving."

"What?"

"Tell them. If you think it'll be so beneficial to them, then you be the one to say goodbye. I'll get your things while you do."

Ann was startled by this prospect, but quickly realized that he was right. She had to say goodbye to them. So, agreeing to his terms, she nodded and walked out the door that led to the parlor.

She opened the door to find her children standing right there. They had been listening through the cracks! Ann's heart filled with dread.

"Is it true, Mama?" Amanda asked, tears already streaming down her cheeks. "That you're leaving?"

Ann had to swallow another lump before she answered her daughter. Kneeling down so that she was at eye level with Amanda, Ann wiped the hot tears off of her face. "Darling, promise Mama that you will always be strong. Never stop being the little thinker that you are. Promise me that?"

"Mama." Amanda's determined green eyes closed momentarily, her eyebrows furrowing together. Fresh tears squeezed out, and she suddenly appeared to be far beyond her four years. "Are you leaving?" she asked again, this time with more force.

Ann withdrew her hand and sighed. "Yes, darling. I am."

It hit her before she even knew what happened. Amanda's small palm struck Ann's cheek with such a shocking force that it took all the breath away from her momentarily. Small sobs choked the little girl's throat as tears fell with sudden ferocity.

"I- hate- you," she whispered between chokes. And then, before a full attack of weeping could strike the small girl, she turned and stormed out of the room, leaving her mother more hurt than a small slap could ever have.

Ann watched Amanda, knowing that this would be the last time she would see her daughter.

She wiped a few tears from her eyes and turned back to see Alexander standing there, standing still for the first time in his life. He appeared puzzled.

"You were just kidding, right Mama?" he asked her. "You're not really leaving."

"No, Alexander, I'm afraid I am."

"But you'll come back, right?"

Ann reached down and picked her son up. "I love you, Alex. Don't you ever forget that."

"I love you too, Mama," he told her, wrapping his arms around her neck. Tears pricked Ann's eyelids.

"Now," she said clearing her throat as she set him back on the floor. "How about you go comfort your sister?"

He nodded and took her hand, and the two of them walked together to the front of the house. At the stairs, Ann released her son's hand and kissed his forehead. "Go on up," she told him. "And tell her I love her."

And with that, Ann took her last look at her son before he disappeared upstairs.

Her suitcase was sitting by the door, waiting for her. Andrew obviously did not want to have a final goodbye. _So be it_, she told herself. Ann took one last look at her home, picked up her suitcase, and walked out the door.

On the path towards moving forward, there are often bumps. Measures have to be taken to insure that the rest of the journey will go smoothly. However, these are not always the easiest things bridges to cross. Sometimes people's hearts need to be broken. Sometimes, skins need to be shed.

The woman known as Ann dissolved as she walked through that door. And with one layer gone, Midnight emerged.


	57. Chapter 57: Layers

_Knock, knock_. Midnight rapped on the door with her right hand, holding her suitcase firmly in the left. Although what she had just done was hard enough, she knew that what she was about to do could break her.

But her mind was made, and though she had had many different personalities in her twenty odd years, stubborn was always a defining quality. And once she set her mind to something, she wasted no time. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

The door opened, and Skittery's face appeared. Midnight's heart leapt for joy at the sight of him, only to sink back down again as soon as she remembered what she was there to do.

"Ann, where were you this morning?" he asked her, worriedly. It had completely escaped Midnight that today was Saturday, and that only a few hours earlier she had skipped her day with Skittery to visit Jack's grave. "Is everything alright?"

Not knowing exactly how to answer that question, she instead took his face in her right hand and kissed him. Skittery seemed surprised by the sudden action at first, but responded quickly, pulling her inside and closing the door behind them.

The kiss was passionate and loving. This last touch was far different from her last touch of Andrew; where with Andrew it was out of the great respect she held for the man, this was of the deep love she and Skittery had shared. She felt tears pricking her eyes, and needed to squash them before her act was ruined.

Midnight pulled her lips from his then, and, leaning her forehead against his, whispered the fatal words. "I can't do this anymore, Skittery."

The magic of the kiss was broken, and Skittery's eyes popped open. "What?"

"I can't continue living this double life."

Fear crept into his eyes as he tried to rationalize this statement. He took a cautionary step backwards. "You mean, you're done with Andrew and you've come to be with me forever, right? And that's why you brought your suitcase?" He gestured to the luggage that had fallen to the floor during their display of affection.

She shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry, so sorry…" She couldn't hold it in anymore. She started crying, and the words choked inside her throat before they had a chance to be voiced. The careful façade she had intended to keep was quickly crumbling.

Tears began welling up in Skittery's eyes. "I don't believe you, Midnight. You're lying to me…" She just shook her head more vigorously. "What is it then?"

"I have kids, Skittery! They need me. I can't just leave them!" These truths ripped her heart, but now that the ball was rolling, there was no stopping it.

He held her head with both hands and looked into her eyes, as though trying to reason with her. "We can bring them with us," he whispered. "We can be our own family. They'll love me, I promise."

Midnight started to calm down and she imagined what life could be like for them. Amanda would take some time to warm up to him, but indeed, it would happen eventually. Alexander would embrace the idea of a new playmate happily, just as he embraced everything. And Midnight… well, Midnight could possibly be happy.

"I love you, Midnight."

Until that moment, she would have said yes. Until that moment, the idea of being Midnight forever was her greatest wish. But suddenly, she wasn't Midnight, and she knew she couldn't be Midnight any longer.

"Don't call me that!" she cried, breaking away from his embrace. "That's not my name! It never has been. This has all been nice, Skittery, but the fantasy's over and it's about time I go back to the real world. Don't you see that?" She was near hysterics by this point. "I'm not Midnight!" Of course, he wouldn't understand the deeper meaning she meant, but he would learn soon enough.

Skittery went steely cold at her outburst. "Then leave. Leave and never come back." He remained where he stood, staring directly at her. "I hate you."

She held her ground for a moment or two, returning his stare. She studied his face, unsure if it was anger, hurt, confusion, or stubbornness that caused him to say this.

Finally, she decided that it wasn't worth deciphering anymore. "Whatever you say," she muttered. She grabbed her suitcase and left, slamming the door behind her.

When she had reached the first floor, she heard him above calling down to her. He was trying to apologize, but she wouldn't allow it. She ignored his efforts, pushed open the door to the afternoon outside and ran. There was one final stop to be made before she ran for good.

But for now, with another layer gone, running was easier. She realized that she wasn't running from something, but rather, running to something. And she simply ran faster.


	58. Chapter 58: Showdown

"Where is he?"

Swifty turned around to the entrance of the grocery store to see that detective fuming in the doorway. His eyes were bloodshot, and it was obvious that he was far from sober. "Where is who?" Swifty asked cautiously. This was not supposed to happen so suddenly. This wasn't her plan!

"You know who I'm talking about. I know he owns this store with you. And he's not at his apartment, so he must be here," he growled. "Come out, you filthy piece of-"

"Mr. Kline, if you're looking for Skittery, I'm afraid you won't find him here. He might be-"

"It's okay, Swift," a new voice emerged from the door to the backroom. Swifty's heart sank. It was beginning to look like he'd have to abandon the plan altogether. "After all, there's nothing left for him to take from me."

"Now gentlemen, let's not get carried away," Swifty started as Skittery defiantly walked over to Andrew Kline.

The detective was less calm than his counterpart. "Where is she?" he seethed. "I have the legal right to know where my wife is."

"Gentlemen-"

"Shouldn't you know that? It's not my fault now if you lose her. That'd be your own doing." The distance was closing in between them as their fury increased, and Swifty followed around the counter just as Kline took his friend by the collar and started yelling at him.

"I ought to cut you up into a thousand pieces and feed you to the dogs, you-"

"Stop-"

"Ha! Didn't your wifey do enough damage for one day? Do you really feel the need to come in here and assert your masculinity?"

"Don't talk about her like that, maggot! Tell me where she is!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Skittery cried. "She left me, remember?"

The rage in Kline's eyes exploded. "DON'T MOCK ME!" he screamed. "You worthless-"

"Oh, again with the insults!"

Swifty had been trying to get in between them, but his meek voice was being entirely ignored. But this needed to be stopped, because soon the yelling would end and the fighting would begin.

"Would you both shut up!" he yelled over top of them. "She left both of you!"

The men finally took notice the small man waving his arms at them.

"Step away from each other," he told them, and they did.

Skittery took a tentative step towards his friend. "What do you mean, Swift?"

He sighed. "Look, she didn't want you to know until at least tomorrow, but you've left me with no choice. She told both of you that she was leaving for the other, but instead, she just left."

"How can we trust you?" the detective asked him skeptically.

"Believe what you want, but I've got it in writing." Swifty reached to his back pocket and pulled out two letters. "She stopped by this afternoon with letters she made me promise to give to you. I wasn't supposed to give them to you until tomorrow, but- well. We do what we must."

Skittery reached out and grabbed his letter quickly, retreating to the backroom to read it. Once he had left, Kline walked up and took the letter from Swifty. He nodded once to him before turning around and walking out of the store.

Suddenly alone, Swifty realized how much he himself would miss her. "God take pity on those men," he muttered to himself.


	59. Chapter 59: Letters

"Andrew,

By now I expect you have discovered that I did not run away with Skittery. Understand, dear, that I needed to break your heart, or you would never let me go. It nearly killed me to do so. Please forgive me.

I do not have enough room on this page to make you comprehend how much you mean to me. You have been a savior, a friend, a lover, a husband, a father, and so much more. I could not ask for a better man to marry.

You are the father of my children, whom I love more than life itself. God has given me the greatest gift in those children. But unfortunately, I am not fit to be their mother. It will be hard on them, I know, but coming from one whose mother abandoned her, I know that in the end, they will be stronger for it. It is not an experience I wish upon them, but it is a lesson I would like them to learn.

Know that I promise to write to both children on their sixteenth birthdays. Wherever I am, I will write. If I don't, you may assume my death has finally caught up to me.

Andrew, I am not running from you. I am not running from Skittery. I am not running from New York. I am not running from my life and my problems. I am running from me.

I am running to become the real me.

With all my love,

Brittany Ann "Midnight" Miller Kline."

~*~

"Skittery,

Please don't come after me. By the time you read this, I will already be en route to Europe. You have so much life ahead of you; don't waste it chasing a ghost.

I did not leave New York with Andrew, however. I left Andrew with the impression that I was leaving with you, but instead, I'm leaving with neither of you.

But not because I didn't love you, Skittery. I loved you more than I ever imagined possible. You have taught me so much; all those years ago, you taught me that I was capable of being loved. And now, you have taught me that I am capable of being forgiven.

Please forgive me this time, Skits. I want little else in the world to be Midnight with you forever, and to have a family with you and live and breathe you and only you. But I'm not Midnight, no matter how hard I've tried to be.

The real me has been fighting to get out. All my life, I have lived for someone else. For my parents, for Lars Studebaker, for Andrew, for the newsies, for you, for my children… I have never lived for myself.

So I'm going to go start fresh. I'm going where no body knows me, where I don't know the language, where I can be the woman God always intended me to be.

But remember this: I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

I love you.

Brittany Ann "Midnight" Miller Kline."


	60. Chapter 60: Brittany X

_A woman stands on the deck of a ship. She is in her mid-twenties, but appears to have seen her fair share of burdens. Her almond hair whips her face as the ship gains speed, pulling away from the city she had known for her entire life. _

_Memories speed past her as the shoreline gets thinner. A young girl in a dark green dress. A drunken mother. A bloodied knife. A beautiful sunrise, signaling a new start. A courtroom. A barred window. A vial of ashes. A detective's office. A brothel. An oriental boy. A cowboy. A gloomy young man. A second bloody knife. A cup of coffee. A silver locket. A returning mother. An abandoned mother. A happy lover. An old love. A decision. A ring. A family. An affair. A grave. It is hard for her to believe it had all happened._

_But it had, and she is a better woman for all of her hardships. She is leaving behind a lot, but she is finally gaining herself. _

_She closes her eyes, and slowly turns herself inward. She searches deep beneath all the layers of her being, pushing past who she has been and who she could have been. She finds herself an old, but familiar place, one that she is comfortable being at peace with. When she opens her eyes, she is a new woman._

_Brittany lives once more._

**Author's Note:** I cannot believe I am done. I am sitting here, staring at my computer screen, in complete and utter awe.

This has been a three-and-a-half year project now. Three years since I started posting them. And now, having just graduated high school, I feel more like my character now than I have in quite some time. I, too, need to shed some skins. This is very fitting.

Thank you for taking the time to read sixty chapters. Thank you to those of you who have kept coming back, even through the bad writing and the crappy chapters and the lack of updating. In the style of Brittany, "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you."

Thank you.


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